CHAPTER 225: THE FINAL SHOWDOWN (PART 3)

another murmured, disbelief and dread threading their words.

And then, the first voice that spoke the unthinkable: "The true emperor... he has the Jade Token."

A ripple ran through the crowd. Some fell to their knees at once, their faces pale, their eyes glassy with fear and awe. Others hesitated, their mouths opening in protest—but the sight of the Jade Token in Pei Rong’s grasp silenced them before they could speak.

Zhao Yan stumbled to a halt, his chest heaving as he took in the scene. Around him, his men looked dazed, the hope that had driven them this far flickering and fading like a dying candle. Deng Mi pressed a hand to the gash on his arm, blood dripping down his wrist. Wei Ling’s saber dipped just an inch, his shoulders tight with disbelief.

Pei Rong’s laughter was low, resonant, the sound of a man who had finally seized his destiny. "Bow," he said, his voice cutting through the stunned quiet like a blade. "All of you. Bow to your true emperor!"

His guards formed a tight ring around him, weapons gleaming, their faces set in hard lines. Their loyalty was absolute—each one willing to die for the man who now held the empire’s soul in his hands.

Zhao Yan’s heart twisted in his chest. He could see the defeat in his men’s eyes—the way they shifted their weight, uncertainty creeping in. The way even Deng Mi’s jaw tightened, doubt flickering like a shadow across his gaze.

Around them, murmurs grew louder.

"He has the Jade Token... we have no choice."

"It is fate," someone else said bitterly, his shoulders slumping. "We cannot fight fate."

"No," Zhao Yan hissed under his breath, his fingers white around the hilt of his sword. "We can. We must."

But the weight of the Jade Token was heavy in the air, pressing down on every soul in that courtyard. And Pei Rong stood tall, his red robes billowing in the cold night wind, his face alight with triumph.

"I said bow!" he thundered.

And slowly, hesitantly, men began to sink to their knees. One by one, heads bowed, the weight of that green glow breaking them.

Zhao Yan’s men stood frozen, their eyes wide, their hearts caught between loyalty and the crushing reality of what they saw. Swords dipped, shields lowered, and for a breathless moment, the night was still.

A soft voice in the crowd, broken and weary: "We have no choice. He is the emperor now."

Zhao Yan’s breath was ragged, his heart pounding like a war drum in his chest. He looked back towards the Jade House, the glow of the token reflecting in the polished jade walls, illusions of countless bowed heads flickering across the stone. His own reflection stared back at him—haunted, unyielding.

Deng Mi’s voice was low, grim. "Your Highness... what do we do now?"

Zhao Yan’s jaw tightened. He said nothing, his eyes locked on Pei Rong—on the man who now held the empire in his hands, and the cold fire in those eyes that promised ruin for all who defied him.

Pei Rong raised the Jade Token higher, the light of it washing over the courtyard like a tide. "This is the will of the heavens!" he declared, his voice ringing out. "Kneel, and accept your fate."

The courtyard fell into a heavy silence. The once-clashing swords and cries of battle had ceased, replaced by an oppressive stillness. The Jade Token, now clutched tightly in Pei Rong’s hand, emitted a cold, green luminescence that seemed to drain the warmth from the air.

One by one, the assembled soldiers and courtiers dropped to their knees. The weight of tradition, the fear of defiance, and the mesmerizing glow of the Jade Token compelled them. Even those who had fought valiantly moments before now bowed their heads, submitting to the man who held the symbol of ultimate authority.

Yet, amidst the sea of bowed figures, three remained standing.

Zhao Yan stood tall, his eyes fixed on Pei Rong with a mixture of defiance and disbelief. Beside him, Wei Ling and Deng Mi mirrored his stance, their weapons lowered but their resolve unshaken.

Zhao Yan’s gaze swept over the crowd, taking in the sight of his allies on their knees, their spirits seemingly broken. A pang of guilt and sorrow pierced his heart. Had he led them to this? Was this the end of their struggle?

Then, through the throng, his eyes met a familiar pair.

Hua Jing stood amidst the crowd, her red garments stained with blood, her face smeared with dirt and sweat. Beside her was Zhao Ling Xu, equally bloodied and battered. Despite their disheveled appearances, both stood upright, refusing to bow.

Zhao Ling Xu met Zhao Yan’s gaze and gave a subtle shake of his head, a silent message: Do not yield. Hua Jing’s expression was unreadable, but her unwavering stance spoke volumes.

Pei Rong noticed the defiant few and sneered. "So, you choose to defy me? Very well. Face the consequences."

He gestured sharply, and his guards advanced toward Zhao Yan and his companions.

At that moment, the sky darkened abruptly. Thick clouds gathered overhead, blotting out the moon and stars. A low rumble echoed across the heavens, growing louder with each passing second.

The sudden change in weather sent a ripple of unease through the crowd. Whispers spread like wildfire.

"The heavens... they’re angry."

"Is this an omen?"

Pei Rong’s confidence wavered. He looked up, his grip tightening on the Jade Token.

A blinding flash of lightning split the sky, followed by a deafening clap of thunder. The ground trembled beneath their feet.

From the darkened sky, a bolt of lightning struck the Jade Token, sending a shockwave that knocked Pei Rong backward. He cried out, clutching his hand, now burned and blistered.

The Jade Token lay on the ground, its glow dimmed, a crack running through its center.

Gasps erupted from the crowd. The symbol of divine authority had been damaged—a clear sign of the heavens’ disapproval!

Zhao Yan stepped forward, his voice steady and resolute.

His words were mocking

"Even the heavens do not want you as the ruler. Everything you have worked hard for was all for nothing!"