"It's done. It's finally done."Chen Mo's voice was barely a whisper, his hand still wrapped around the immortal lord's throat. The god was dead. The army was kneeling. The realm was silent. And Chen Mo stood at the center of it all, his scales burning with golden fire, his eyes blazing with amber light.He should have felt triumphant. He should have felt victorious. He should have felt something.But he didn't.---He dropped the body.The immortal lord hit the deck with a wet thud. His black eyes stared at nothing. His crown rolled across the floor. And Chen Mo watched it go."A crown," he murmured. "A symbol of power. A symbol of rule."He picked it up. It was heavy. Cold. Golden."This is what they fought for," he said. "This is what they killed for. This is what they destroyed everything for."He looked at the assembled troops. They were kneeling. Waiting. Watching."You

"The crown is heavier than I expected."Chen Mo sat on the throne of the Lower Heavens, the golden circlet resting in his palms. It was beautiful. Intricate. Ancient. It had been worn by a thousand immortal lords before him. It had been forged in the fires of creation. It had been blessed by gods and cursed by mortals.And it was heavy. So heavy."You don't have to wear it," Meng Yao said. She stood beside the throne, her gray eyes soft, her smile gentle. "You don't have to be a king.""I know.""Then why are you holding it?"He looked at her. His eyes were tired. His scales were dim. His heart was pounding."Because I don't know what else to do."---The throne room was silent.The immortal lords who had once served the Emperor were gathered in the shadows, their faces unreadable, their eyes cold. They had come to pay their respects. They had come to bend the knee. But they hadn't. Not yet."They're waiting," Meng Yao said. "They want to see what you'll do.""I know.""What are you g