CHINESE ARYA STARK meets THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA.
*A Wattpad Featured story*
When everyone wears a mask, who do you trust?
In the unforgiving empire of Erden where the Imperials reign supreme, Sarna is a slave. After escaping the brothel where a m...
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"Ever heard of Yin and Yang? It's the push and pull of the tides. Life and death, light and darkness, actions, and consequences. Should the balance be lifted, none shall live."
Yin and Yang—An Investiture of High Immortals
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The entire hall reeked of chaos and burning garbage. The foul odor of Hundun prowled along the corridors and stained the night air.
I waved my hand, blasting the metal doors open. As expected, Wulin was seated on the Emperor's throne in a most relaxed manner—one leg propped on top of the other, one hand on the armrest and the other swirling the contents of his dragon goblet. Two female slaves stood next to him, both of them eyes wide with terror, and shaking hands carrying silver trays laden with grapes and cakes.
"You're on my seat," I said.
Wulin flung his goblet aside, spilling its contents all over the floor. "You never cease to surprise me, my dearest."
"You're on my seat," I repeated.
He rose and stretched. "I shall not warn you again. Do not challenge my authority."
"I challenge you to the rights of the throne," I said. "I am the crown princess and your lawfully wedded wife."
Wulin clicked his fingers. The slaves next to him dropped their trays, faces pale and eyes bulging. Food and wine crashed to the ground as they were reduced to piles of dust at his feet.
"I've warned you," he said in a low tone. "Anyone who stands in my way shall meet the fate of these two slaves."
Seeing the girls die in front of my eyes, so sudden and so brutally, ignited the swell of flames within me. I remembered how he had struck Miya with his sword. There was no mercy in his actions, nor there was a sliver of compassion in his soul. Everything he had done, everything he had sought for, was to prove himself to a father who was blind."
"Your father will never be proud of you," I said. "No father would be proud of a traitorous son, cruel enough to even slay his own brother."
Wulin's breaths came in short and shallow spurts.
"Do not taunt me, Sarna Jinyu. I shall not be gentle."
"Traitor," I spat out the words. "Coward."
An angry scream ripped from Wulin's throat as he stretched out his hand and pulled a staff out of thin air. I recognized the rippling, simmering metal—Nerithim. On top of the staff was a pair of silver claws that clasped an emerald-green orb as big as an ostrich's egg. He twirled the staff once and slammed it onto the ground. The marble floor cracked as the staff collided upon the surface, shattering it like glass.
