Even the old King Charlie on the throne was filled with incredulous astonishment at this moment.

He clearly hadn't expected that Elizabeth, long excluded from succession by everyone, would dare to openly challenge the established order in such a setting.

Faced with pressure and questioning from all sides, Elizabeth remained unfazed.

She straightened her back, her cold gaze sweeping over the faces that were either mocking or angry, and responded in a cold voice almost in a questioning tone:

"Just because I haven't received the support and approval from you so-called big figures, does it mean that my rightful inheritance can be roughly excluded?"

Elizabeth's declaration to contest for the throne was like a spark dropped into a powder keg, instantly igniting Prince Charles's long-suppressed rage.

He abruptly stepped out from his supporters, his handsome face twisted with anger, pointing at Elizabeth's nose, sharply reprimanding:

"Who do you think you are?!"

His voice echoed in the hall, full of disdain and scorn:

"You're nothing but a lackey wagging your tail beneath the Union's feet.

You really think that by clinging to that mighty thigh, you can covet Victoria's throne? Utter foolishness and delusion!"

He became more agitated as he spoke, saliva flying as he tried to use the harshest language to belittle Elizabeth, masking the fact that her schemes had led to his exile, "Not even you, this dog, nor your Union master should think of touching the Victoria Royal Family's succession rights, interfering with our internal affairs!"

"Is that really so?"

Just as Prince Charles's voice was almost tearing through the air, a calm and unperturbed voice faintly echoed in the hall.

Though the voice was not loud, it seemed to reverberate directly in the depths of everyone's soul.

In an instant, an indescribable chill, like a cold tide, silently surged into everyone's heart.

The crowd felt a chill down their spines, the hairs on the nape of their necks stood on end, instinctively turning their gaze to the grand open court door.

There, a young man was standing quietly, without anyone knowing when he arrived.

He was dressed in a well-fitting black suit, its simple style yet exuding understated luxury, highlighting his upright posture.

However, what caught everyone's eyes was not his appearance, but the ancient and majestic scepter in his right hand.

Although most nobles present might not recognize this suddenly appearing young man, they were deeply familiar with the scepter in his hand.

It was the long-lost supreme symbol of the Victoria Royal Family, the manifestation of the King's Path's power, representing the unique incompleteness of the Scepter of Royal Authority!

"It's Lu Yan!" A suppressed exclamation emerged from the crowd.

"Is he the one, Lu Yan, who slew Prince Rein?" More whispers spread like a plague, with fear and awe intertwining on everyone's faces.

Lu Yan's gaze was as calm as a deep and cold pool, sweeping over the previously hysterically roaring Prince Charles.

Just that glance, without releasing any substantial pressure, made Prince Charles stiffen as if struck by an immobilization spell.

Months prior, facing Lu Yan amid the ruins of White Manor, the bone-deep fear felt resurfaced through his body like a rushing tide.

He felt as if an invisible giant hand was gripping his throat, nearly suffocating him.

Large beads of cold sweat uncontrollably seeped from Charles's forehead, sliding down his pale cheeks.

He had thought that within the heavily guarded Royal Palace Hall, surrounded by numerous royal strongmen and noble allies, he could muster the courage to no longer fear this harbinger of doom.

Yet, when Lu Yan's figure truly appeared before him, he despairingly realized how absurdly wrong he was.

In the face of absolute power, the so-called protection and courage were merely laughable illusions.

Lu Yan seemed to dismiss Charles, his indifferent gaze resting on him for just a moment, then moved away like looking at roadside dust, stepping calmly and steadily towards the head of the Royal Palace Hall, that area signifying supreme power.

Thud!

The base of the Scepter of Royal Authority gently tapped the smooth marble floor, releasing a deep and rhythmic echo.

After this tap, an incredible scene unfolded.

Golden light, like liquid lava, without any warning erupted from beneath Lu Yan's feet, quickly formed and shaped, in the blink of an eye transforming into an extremely luxurious Golden Throne.

This throne appeared out of thin air at the top of the steps in the hall, its height and aura faintly surpassing the throne of the current King below.

Under the shocked gazes of everyone, Lu Yan with the Scepter of Royal Authority sat calmly on the entirely gold constructed throne.

He leaned the scepter casually by his side, his tranquil gaze sweeping through the silent crowd below, and then his indifferent voice rang out again, clearly reaching every ear:

"Continue!"