After a storm came a calm outside Sixiang Hut.
Emperor Jingxiao stood on the platform with his hands crossed behind his back, his eyes looking into the sky deeply.
After the rain, the breeze was slightly cool, blowing with moisture, which made the Emperor's robe billow and rustle in the wind.
Even his back revealed the solemnity and majesty belonging to the Emperor.
The day was drawing to a close, and the setting sun was as red as blood. The sunset in the west shed a scarlet glow on the yellow robe of the Emperor, like the blood gurgling all over the Emperor's body.
Since ancient times, all the Emperors, who stood at the highest position, held both the cruel knife and the brush in their hands, enjoying the blood-stained landscape of the state.
As an Emperor, he would never allow othe
