“Huff… huff….” Chong Yang was gasping for breath when he came out of the palace. His face was pale, and covered in cold sweat. He and Mo Yu both collapsed to the ground in a corner of the Imperial City, looking like two beggars on the side of the road.

“N-national funeral…” Chong Yang had a difficult time speaking, as if there was something stuck in his throat.

“How is that possible? His Majesty’s only three hundred years old. With his cultivation, the limit of his lifespan should be five hundred years. So how did he die all of a sudden…?” Mo Yu was dazed.

“I don’t know what happened. Anyway, there weren't any traces of battle. The members of the Ancient Theocrats will soon return, and we’ll know what happened then.” Even Chong Yang still couldn’t believe that all of this was true.

“The sky is changing.” Mo Yu closed her eyes.

“Yeah… the Theocracy of the Ancients no longer has a pillar.…”

“I wonder if His Majesty assigned a new successor before passing away?”

“If not, the two princes, Dongyang Ling and Dongyang Yun, will definitely start fighting.” Chong Yang panicked a little.

“His Majesty was on the throne for two centuries, and during his reign, eight crown...