Step by step, he ascended the tall platform.
The priest, wearing a serene, godlike smile of forgiveness, held the Bible in his hands, waiting for him.
But to Zuo Shihuan, that saintly smile— was even more absurd and unbearable than the faces of desire gleaming under the blinding light.
He respected the faith of others, but he did not believe in any god.
After all, when he was diagnosed with a genetic illness that had no cure—when he lay in a hospital bed waiting for death—no god had ever smiled at him.
Even his survival afterward was not divine mercy; it felt more like a god’s cruel jest.
Watching him step into heaven, only to watch him tumble, step by step, into an even deeper hell.
Like now.
The solemn wedding march echoed against the vaulted ceiling of the chapel.
The kindly priest, with a smile full of divine forgiveness, stood before the perfectly matched bride and groom and began his opening words in a warm, gentle tone: “Now the sacred wedding ceremony is about to officially begin. Will the bride and groom please turn to face each other, so that everyone present may witness and bless this beautiful moment of happiness…”
Zuo Shihuan turned blankly, his brow faintly furrowed as he listened to the priest’s long-winded introduction. His grayish eyes were dull, his forced smile unable to hold.
It seemed Yu Lizhu had noticed his dazed fatigue.
She gently shifted the bouquet in her hands to draw his attention, and under cover of the priest’s droning voice, she whispered softly to him: “It’ll be over soon. Just hold on a little longer.”
Zuo Shihuan gave a slow nod, a faint gleam returning to his light brown eyes.
He secretly berated himself—ashamed that he wasn’t as composed or strong as Yu Lizhu, that he still needed her comfort when he was supposed to be the Alpha.
He forced himself to focus and looked at her again.
Her head was slightly lowered, her smile shy and radiant, dark hair pinned up with pearls and jewels, the long, magnificent train of her gown flowing over the golden steps.
Anyone looking at her would think she was the happiest, most beautiful Omega bride in the world that day.
But in truth—it was all an act.
Thankfully, it was an act.
If today’s bride had been some innocent person—if that person had held hopes or dreams for this marriage—and he had to drag that innocent into a union devoid of love or future…
Then Zuo Shihuan would have been even more ashamed, unable to bear himself.
He would have no way to explain why he wouldn’t kiss her, why he couldn’t bring himself to be close to her, why—even during her heat—he would rather take Alpha suppressant medication each month than mark her with his pheromones.
So this—this was already the best choice.
Two people equally far from innocence, performing a play they both needed. He had no other choice but to make sure the play ended flawlessly.
Just one final ritual remained.
He would not let anyone or anything ruin it.
Resolute light filled his eyes. Zuo Shihuan gave Yu Lizhu a gentle, reassuring smile, then fixed his gaze tightly on the ring box in the priest’s hands.
“Now, the rings are in my hands,” the priest proclaimed, his voice suddenly loud and ceremonial. “According to tradition, I must ask—among the bride, the groom, and all who are gathered here—does anyone have any reason to object to this marriage?”
It was supposed to be a mere formality.
The priest was about to continue when a stir rippled through the crowd—murmurs, confusion.
Down the center of the red carpet strode a tall, coldly handsome man. His dark, stubborn eyes locked onto the man standing on the high platform.
The man he looked at was now gazing tenderly at the beautiful Omega bride before him, his light brown eyes filled with soft light. The bride, bouquet in hand, smiled shyly, serenely—the two of them looked so perfect together, so mutually in love.
Gu Heng’s eyes reddened as his fingers dug into his palm, his heart splitting open with the ugly fissure of jealousy.
All the reckless thoughts in his head roared to life—he wanted to take him back, to snatch the groom away from everyone’s sight, to reclaim Zuo Shihuan, the man who belonged to him alone.
He took a step forward—
But the instant he saw that unmistakable tenderness in Zuo Shihuan’s gaze toward the bride, his stride faltered, hesitated for a heartbeat.
Proud, arrogant Gu Heng—even crashing a wedding, even daring to stop the ceremony—had believed, with unshakable conviction, that he was right. That Zuo Shihuan’s true affection, his true choice, had always been him.
That it was only because of social conventions that Zuo Shihuan was forced to marry a family-appointed Omega.
Even Gu Heng himself, once, had chosen the Empire over Zuo Shihuan—out of duty, out of calculation.
But now, he regretted it.
After a lifetime of carrying the Empire’s weight, all he wanted—just this once—was to act on selfish desire and take Zuo Shihuan back.
He had seen Zuo Shihuan’s love, his reluctance to part. He believed that if he reached for him, Zuo Shihuan would return.
But seeing that tenderness directed at someone else—seeing the gentleness in his eyes toward that Omega bride—
Gu Heng froze completely.
His first reaction was disbelief. Then, as he looked again—at that warmth that was anything but cold—
It wasn’t just not cold.
Zuo Shihuan even smiled at her.
Gu Heng’s eyes stung, his throat caught on the words he’d meant to shout. They lodged there, sharp and metallic, tasting like blood.
He couldn’t say it—couldn’t say that he opposed this marriage.
And yet he couldn’t suppress the twisted jealousy writhing in his chest, like a venomous serpent gnawing at his heart, its poison spreading through his body until he could barely breathe.
Maybe he had been wrong all along.
Maybe Zuo Shihuan’s feelings for him had never been special.
Maybe Zuo Shihuan had already let go.
Maybe, in the time since he’d left the Federation’s main star, after all those days apart, Zuo Shihuan had unknowingly grown feelings for that Omega.
After all, he was the one who had given up on Zuo Shihuan first.
He was the one who had run away—fled like a coward, as if shedding a burden—and left the main star behind.
He had thought it was the right choice, that it was for both their sakes, that it was the easier path in the eyes of the world.
But who could have guessed— that the one left aching, unwilling, unable to forget— was him.
Even just catching a glimpse of Zuo Shihuan’s side profile in someone else’s video call, he would stare with insatiable greed. He had endured endless nights, tossing and turning, trying to suppress his longing and desire for him—until the sudden, unexpected news of Zuo Shihuan’s engagement finally broke his restraint.
In truth, the one who couldn’t let go of Zuo Shihuan was himself.
Even with all the advantages and pride of being the Empire’s top Alpha, none of it could withstand the crushing defeat of seeing Zuo Shihuan looking gently at another Omega.
No matter how confident Gu Heng was, he still understood—countless Alphas had fallen to the allure of Omega pheromones. Who could guarantee that Zuo Shihuan wasn’t just one among the masses?
The steps that had once been so reckless and unstoppable now grew unbearably heavy.
As if he were trapped in a nightmare that repeated endlessly.
He began to remember again— The countless times Zuo Shihuan left without a word, disappearing into the darkness without even a backward glance.
The bright red carpet before him now seemed to turn into a quagmire, while up on the dais, Zuo Shihuan still shone brilliantly—his gaze gentle and tender as he looked at his beautiful Omega bride.
And the one sinking into the mire, even as the hope of escape slowly dimmed, still dragged his heavy legs forward, swallowed the metallic taste of blood in his throat, and with every last ounce of strength, struggled toward the shore—toward that person.
He walked out silently under everyone’s gaze.
Gu Heng stood out alone in the middle of the red carpet, stopping right before the steps. His eyes were rimmed red, and his dark gaze, stubborn and silent, locked onto the man standing radiant and elegant in a white suit upon the platform.
The priest, noticing the interruption, asked in confusion, “Sir, do you have something you wish to say to the couple?”
The whole venue began to buzz with whispers.
“What’s going on?”
“Who is that man? Is he drunk? He doesn’t look like someone from an ordinary family—just, well, his clothes are completely inappropriate… Who invited him?”
“Has anyone seen him before? No? Then maybe he’s not from any notable house. So why is he here? Could it be—”
Many eyes turned toward the Alpha and Omega newlyweds on the stage, their gazes darting with gossip and speculation between the couple and the handsome, unfamiliar man who had suddenly appeared.
Of course, this also caught the attention of the Zuo family.
Even Zuo Zoujian stopped flirting with the Omega female guests around him.
The ceremony had already been delayed long enough to draw complaints—if it couldn’t proceed now, it would be a great humiliation to the Zuo family.
Zuo Zoujian’s face darkened immediately. He sent someone to find out what was happening, and upon hearing the report, his cold, scrutinizing eyes fell on Gu Heng, who stood in the middle of the red carpet, disrupting the event.
He ordered in an icy tone, “No matter who that man is, if necessary, deal with him. We cannot allow outsiders to see that the Zuo family can’t even handle this small matter.”
His subordinate replied respectfully, “Yes, Patriarch.”
Among the onlookers, several figures began to shift.
Before anyone realized it, they had subtly surrounded Gu Heng, who stood isolated on the red carpet.
Some wore tall hats and leaned on canes like old-fashioned gentlemen; others were women in backless gowns; a few were young men with innocent smiles that didn’t quite reach their eyes…
Different genders, different ages—but all shared one chilling similarity: beneath their seemingly human expressions, their pupils reflected a cold, mechanical gleam—like the lens of a camera trained on Gu Heng.
Upon receiving their orders: If the target showed any sign of violent behavior, eliminate immediately.
Having arranged everything, Zuo Zoujian leisurely returned to the crowd, swirling his wine glass as he shamelessly began flirting with another refined young Omega. The Omega clearly knew of his infamous reputation but, out of respect for the Zuo family, forced a polite smile and played along.
As he teased and watched the Omega’s eyes flicker between shyness and irritation, Zuo Zoujian sipped his wine and smiled slyly—like an old fox that had cultivated for a thousand years.
Yet all the while, his peripheral vision stayed fixed on Gu Heng standing on the red carpet, and on Zuo Shihuan upon the platform.
How could he not know or care about the Beta man entangled with his only Alpha heir?
In the past, those small disturbances hadn’t drawn much of his attention—at most, he regarded that Beta as a mere plaything, a little lover for Zuo Shihuan’s amusement. As a father, he had chosen to respect his son’s privacy; even if Zuo Shihuan had ten or eight such lovers, it would have been of little concern.
But to make a scene here—this was different.
He had to admit, his Alpha son was usually decisive and capable; with just a bit of guidance, he had quickly become the perfect Zuo family heir—flawless, impeccable.
Initially, Zuo Zoujian had no high hopes for this son of questionable background. He had even planned to prop up a puppet heir, supported by capable subordinates, if necessary. But Zuo Shihuan’s excellence had changed his mind. He had grown genuinely invested in cultivating this son.
So much so that the old fox often regretted bitterly— He should never have sent their mother and son away with just a sum of money back then. Zuo Shihuan was far more valuable than any amount of wealth. Even as a Beta, he would have been a great asset to the family.
Regret only made Zuo Zoujian more determined to nurture his only Alpha heir.
Unfortunately, this Alpha son had one flaw—he was too soft-hearted toward those he cared about.
If that softness was directed toward family, Zuo Zoujian would have welcomed it. A successor with a weakness that benefited him—such an Alpha would never turn against his father.
After all, Zuo Zoujian was perfectly aware of the messes he’d created in his younger years, and facing Zuo Shihuan sometimes made him feel guilty.
But when that weakness was used on an outsider—that was a different story.
In Zuo Zoujian’s eyes, this Beta who had suddenly appeared was nothing but an eyesore—an emotional debt Zuo Shihuan could not cut off, no matter how many times he should have.
This outsider was jeopardizing the Zuo family heir’s bright future—making the usually decisive and composed Zuo Shihuan act on emotion, delaying his engagement banquet all because of a Beta man.
If not for Zuo Shihuan’s final moment of rationality—his choice to proceed with the ceremony— perhaps his ever-worried father would have been forced to make some heartless decisions for him.
Even now, the thought remained the same.
Zuo Zoujian swirled his glass of red wine, a cold glint of killing intent flashing through his deep eyes as he looked toward the man standing in the center of the red carpet. The corners of his mouth curved with the knowing smile of an old fox.
He thought to himself: He doesn’t want blood spilled at a wedding. It would frighten the delicate guests, ruin the event’s dignity—and worse, killing Zuo Shihuan’s little lover might sow resentment between father and son. Losing such an excellent Alpha heir over a Beta would be far too high a price.
Of course, that’s assuming the ceremony proceeds smoothly.
Otherwise… even if it means earning the hatred of his only Alpha son, he would never let anyone who clouded his heir’s judgment live. Zuo Shihuan belongs to the Zuo family by birth—there’s no changing that.
The ceremony was interrupted.
Zuo Shihuan’s eyes were half-closed, brows furrowed as he tried to block out the chaos around him. But as the delay dragged on, he was finally forced to open his eyes—and inevitably looked in the same direction as the priest.
To see who it was that dared halt the ceremony.
Even though a faint premonition had already formed in his heart, the instant he turned his head his face went pale. There was no avoiding it—his gaze met Gu Heng’s, standing in the center of the red carpet, looking straight at him.
Silent, yet filled with deep emotion.
In his eyes, there was no one else—only Zuo Shihuan.
It felt as if the world had gone utterly still, and Zuo Shihuan was sinking into that dark, shattered sea of black.
The crowd faded away.
Everything quieted until only the two of them remained.
Zuo Shihuan looked at the wordless Gu Heng, tears slowly rising in his light brown eyes. Yet when he met Gu Heng’s red-rimmed, pleading gaze, he still shook his head.
Even as those black eyes dimmed completely, as though their light had been torn apart and fallen into a hopeless abyss, Zuo Shihuan steeled himself not to look.
He knew exactly what Gu Heng meant.
But it was impossible now. Things had reached a point where the eyes of the world were upon them—it was no longer something the two of them could decide.
He couldn’t.
He really couldn’t.
No one and nothing could be allowed to ruin this engagement—not even himself, and not Gu Heng.
He closed his eyes wearily. A vast emptiness spread through his chest, absurd and desolate.
Zuo Shihuan could not calm the rage and anguish churning inside him. His eyes reddened, his face turned cold and fierce. He turned his head away from the man who shook his resolve, grinding his teeth as he cursed inwardly:
—If gods truly exist in this world, then right now, he would hate them with all his heart!
“The ceremony will continue.”
Zuo Shihuan opened his eyes, his voice ice-cold as he ordered the priest.
The priest froze, stunned by his terrifying presence. “Y-yes, of course, but—shouldn’t that gentleman below have something to—”
“I’ll say it once more. Continue. The. Ceremony.”
Zuo Shihuan’s clenched jaw forced out each word. His reddened eyes burned with suppressed fury, like a volcano on the verge of eruption, his aura so intense it made people tremble.
“Father, did you not hear me clearly? Continue the ceremony—unless you want me to replace you right here and now.”
He rarely threatened anyone outright.
But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t—and right now, his control was hanging by a thread.
His palm was clenched so tight that the skin had split, blood seeping between his fingers. The pain was the only thing keeping his fragile composure from shattering completely.
How could he not think of it?
How could he not feel anything?
When he saw Gu Heng appear at his engagement ceremony, his face went white; panic surged up inside him—but beneath that fear, he couldn’t hide the flicker of joy, of desperate hope.
For a split second, that surge of emotion broke through his restraint, and the corners of his lips had even lifted, ever so slightly.
But he couldn’t—he mustn’t.
Even forcing himself not to look at Gu Heng required all the willpower he had left. His lip was bitten until it turned white and bled; the veins on his trembling arm stood out under taut skin.
Just thinking of what he was about to do, right in front of Gu Heng, made his heart feel as if it were being flayed alive under the blazing sun—pain beyond words.
Yet even more unbearable than the pain was the fear—the terror of seeing what kind of gaze Gu Heng would turn on him.
Whichever it was, he couldn’t breathe. His heart pounded in panic, his limbs cold and numb.
The priest’s face had gone ghost-white. Nervous sweat gathered on his forehead, but he didn’t dare raise a hand to wipe it. Even his words came out in stammers.
“Y-yes, of course. If… if no one objects, then, um—Mr. Zuo Shihuan and Miss Yu Lizhu, please… please proceed with the ceremony. The rings—oh, wait, I still have a line to recite—sorry, Mr. Zuo Shihuan, I’ll start now…”
Flustered, the priest stumbled over every word, stealing fearful glances at Zuo Shihuan, who had closed his eyes again in weary disgust.
Terrified that one mistake might have him replaced on the spot, he only grew more flustered.
If that truly happened, not only would he lose all dignity in the clergy circle, but the world would think he had offended one of the Federation’s most powerful families—the Zuos. That would be disastrous.
But what the priest didn’t know was— even if he bungled a hundred lines, Zuo Shihuan would never actually replace him.
Because more than anyone else, Zuo Shihuan just wanted this absurd, powerless ceremony to end— the sooner, the better.
The priest swallowed hard, his throat dry and tight, before reciting the familiar words with great effort:
“Since no one here objects… Mr. Zuo Shihuan and Miss Yu Lizhu will now exchange rings, solemnly declaring before all their love and trust in one another—”
No one responded to the priest.
The groom closed his eyes.
The bride’s face was hidden beneath her veil; she stood quietly, holding her bouquet, her expression impossible to read.
No one at the scene dared to speak.
The atmosphere that should have been sacred and sweet was now filled with heavy tension.
Outside, thunder rumbled and rain poured harder.
The sound of Gu Heng’s footsteps climbing the steps—steady and unhurried—echoed with each crash of thunder, as if striking against everyone’s trembling hearts.
What was even more terrifying was that—
Several more figures appeared on the steps.
They followed behind Gu Heng.
No matter how warmly these faces had mingled with others at the banquet earlier, now each one wore a cold, emotionless expression, as if they were mass-produced machines from a factory.
Gradually, they surrounded Gu Heng.
A tense, deadly aura spread through the hall.
Even the usually haughty socialites covered their throats in fear, not daring to make a sound—afraid that any noise might provoke danger.
“Stop right there. For the sake of your acquaintance with Young Master Zuo Shihuan, I’ll give you this one piece of advice,” said Butler Lin, raising a gun and pointing it at Gu Heng’s head.
Gu Heng swept his gaze around indifferently, finally landing on Butler Lin—whose face, unlike the others, was human. He recognized him as the butler who had once served beside Zuo Shihuan.
But soon, he withdrew his gaze.
Once again, he looked up toward the high platform where the elegant, cold-faced Zuo Shihuan stood.
Even though Zuo Shihuan refused to look at him, Gu Heng still strode forward stubbornly and resolutely, step by step, toward that man on the platform.
It was the first time Butler Lin had ever raised a gun to threaten someone, but even so, he couldn’t stop Gu Heng—not even for a second. Irritated, he barked, “Are you really not afraid of dying?”
The only answer he received was Gu Heng’s fist slamming into the robot blocking his path.
A swift, fierce strike.
A deafening crash.
The middle-aged-looking robot didn’t even have time for its system to react before its metallic head smashed hard against the steps—its skull caving in as a glass-like sphere rolled free.
For a moment, Butler Lin thought his gun had gone off by accident.
The guests immediately erupted into terrified screams.
“Did he just kill someone?!”
“Oh my god—did—did his eyeball just fall out?!”
“What’s going on? Why isn’t anyone catching that murderer?!”
But then, the middle-aged robot struggled to stand again. Its neck hung askew, its head wobbling loosely as if it might fall off at any moment—clearly, the metal joint at the neck was broken.
The guests screamed even louder, their faces pale with horror.
Yet soon, they realized something was off.
Despite such damage, the man wasn’t bleeding. Even with a broken neck, he was still moving—and beneath the torn artificial skin, exposed steel gleamed, the damaged joint sparking with blue-violet arcs.
“That’s… that’s not a person.”
“Not a person?!”
“What’s happening? Someone explain! Why are there so many robots? Is this part of some wedding entertainment show?!”
Of course, some guests recognized it immediately—it was a military product under the Zuo family’s Blue Eagle Group.
“Wait, isn’t that the new military-grade robot model that that old fox Zuo Zoujian’s been trying to sell to the Federation army?”
“Yeah, I heard each one costs a fortune! Supposedly, one of those robots equals ten special-forces soldiers and can even carry out espionage missions. It’s drained quite a bit of the military’s budget, too.”
“Even though they look human, that so-called Blue Eagle robot seems awfully fragile—one punch and it’s broken. I’d bet that old fox Zuo Zoujian cut corners, using cheap steel.”
“Wouldn’t be surprised. If he’s watching this now, he’s probably fuming. These robots won’t sell after this mess!”
The guests chuckled among themselves, clinking glasses, already planning how they’d mock the old fox of the Zuo family later.
But they didn’t need to wait.
Zuo Zoujian’s face was already red with rage, veins bulging on his arm as he gripped his wine glass—no trace left of the smug old man who had been flirting with a young Omega moments before.
Shoving aside the Omega blocking his way, Zuo Zoujian barked furiously in Gu Heng’s direction, “Stop him at all costs! Unlock the robots’ weapon systems! Use whatever means necessary—don’t you dare let the Zuo family lose face!”
They’d already lost enough face as it was!
Zuo Zoujian didn’t even need to imagine the fallout—if they couldn’t even subdue one no-name Beta, people would say the Blue Eagle Group’s newest combat robots were nothing but empty boasts.
By tomorrow morning, the Blue Eagle Group’s stock price would plummet!
After all, the Zuo family wasn’t the only one in the Federation’s weapons market. Every year, the military contracts for arms supply went to whichever tech conglomerate could outfight and outbid the rest.
Even when the Zuo family won their share of the pie, they still had to give up a portion of the profits—and every year, the costs of keeping up with military tech demands were astronomical.
If this behemoth of a family showed even the slightest weakness, the pack of wolves waiting in the dark would pounce and tear them apart.
But things didn’t go as Zuo Zoujian wished.
Four robots flanked Gu Heng from all directions.
These machines weren’t made from cheap steel as some assumed—they were crafted from Blue Eagle Group’s new high-strength composite alloy.
A single arm could bend a ten-centimeter-thick steel bar. Against such robots, human bones—no matter how strong—were as fragile as twigs. Even the tougher Alpha bones could be snapped with ease.
Two robots confronted Gu Heng head-on—one with fists, the other with a short blade—each programmed with the combat data of countless professional fighters.
One tall robot swung its heavy steel fist toward Gu Heng’s left side—
—but Gu Heng dodged. The metal fist struck the steps instead, shattering them with a thunderous crack.
Another agile-type robot held a short sword, calculating Gu Heng’s movement trajectory. The razor-sharp blade pressed down on his range of motion, restricting him with precision.
But it didn’t make much progress.
Until the instant Gu Heng countered—raising his arm—
Two more robots suddenly appeared behind him, coordinating their attack. They seized the opportunity to grab his arms from behind, clamping onto him like two iron chains that refused to let go, while the two robots in front closed in with their weapons.
It looked as if Gu Heng was completely trapped.
Yet in the next second—
A flash of cold fury cut across the darkness in Gu Heng’s silent, frenzied eyes. He jerked his arms violently, and with sheer force flung the two half-ton robots behind him forward, slamming them directly into the ones in front.
The two robots in front didn’t have time to dodge and crashed straight into each other’s weapons.
The sharp short sword sliced through one robot’s artificial human skin—peeling off the beautiful woman’s face it wore, exposing beneath it a glassy red-glowing eyeball and a skull framed with metal—an eerie, grotesque kind of beauty.
But the only human present did not appreciate it.
Gu Heng’s cold, empty black eyes stared ahead. Silent and violent, he punched one robot after another into the steps, the rhythm of his movements almost possessing a brutal, mesmerizing grace.
Unfortunately, the robots had received no command to retreat.
Even with their metal shells cracked open, joints crushed, balance lost—they still struggled to rise, one after another, fearlessly blocking their target.
It was endless.
Even when their steel bodies shattered piece by piece—when only half a leg or half an arm remained—or even just a single unbroken mechanical eye—they still fixed that eye upon Gu Heng.
Even with no hope left, they continued to stare at their target.
Anyone watching would have felt despair.
Just like him.
Ahead of him lay only deeper despair, and yet he continued forward in defiance.
Gu Heng’s head drooped wearily, his black hair veiling his eyes. Blood seeped from the back of his clenched fists, yet he kept swinging—numb, relentless, tireless.
Each blow struck with no regard for pain, pounding the cracked robots into fragments.
It felt like an act of venting—and yet also like helpless rage born of grief.
Broken robot parts were strewn across the ground.
From the ferocity of the fight, even the stone steps were fractured, looking as if they’d crumble at a single touch.
No one and nothing blocked his way anymore.
But Gu Heng stood still amidst the ruins of twisted machinery, head bowed, lips curving in a bitter, self-mocking smile. His legs felt as heavy as lead, as though he were sinking into a mire of despair.
His black eyes, hidden by his bangs, saw no light ahead.
He didn’t know whether to stop where he was—or to step deeper into the darkness.
The ceremony, however, continued.
The priest’s face was stricken with terror, his mouth opening and closing, but he couldn’t utter the words of the rite.
Every gaze in the room was fixed, stunned, upon Gu Heng. Even Yu Lizhu was frozen in shock.The symphony orchestra stopped playing the wedding march, the music cut off mid-note.
All watched silently—the man standing alone amid the ruins, completely out of place.
Except for one person.
No matter how chaotic it became below the dais—no matter how much attention or commotion filled the room—that one person never looked down again, eyes unwavering, focused only on the ceremony before him.
Until it was interrupted again.
Zuo Shihuan lifted his gaze. The glaring lights reflected in his pale pupils, concealing the faint tear tracks that traced down from the reddened corners of his eyes. His voice, however, was calm and steady as he said—
“I said, let the ceremony continue.”
