While the North was burning in a silent, economic and spatial collapse, the heart of the Lu Palace was suspiciously peaceful.

  Inside the Golden Dragon Pavilion, the air was thick with the scent of the finest Heaven-Grade tea. Emperor Lu Tian sat on a plush divan, surrounded by the Empress and his three Consorts.

  Noble Consort Wang Li’er, her wrist now perfectly healed thanks to Yueran’s "overkill" medical treatment, was peeling a spirit-orange.

  "Did you feel that just now?" Empress Fu Meyar asked, a playful smile on her lips. "That ripple in the Dao? Our Xian-er is being quite loud today."

  "He's not being loud, Meyar," Lu Tian chuckled, leaning back and resting his head in his wife’s lap. "He’s being efficient. I just received a report. The Zhou Empire’s currency is currently being used as wallpaper, and their Emperor is currently being chased by his own palace chefs for unpaid wages. My son didn't even use a single imperial soldier."

  "He really does love us, doesn't he?" Consort Hu Wan said softly, her eyes misty. "He acted like he didn't care about the training, but the moment Li’er was scratched, he turned into a different person."

  "He’s a monster," Noble Consort Su Ka’er laughed, sharpening a dagger out of habit. "A beautiful, lazy, terrifying monster. He destroyed a lineage because he wanted his family to be able to nap in peace. It’s the most Lu Empire thing I’ve ever heard."

  Lu Tian looked at his wives—the women who had stood by him through three hundred years of boring governance and political headaches. He felt a surge of pure, unadulterated happiness. For the first time in centuries, he saw a way out. He saw a successor who wasn't just capable, but over-qualified to the point of absurdity.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  In that moment of absolute domestic bliss, the Emperor's bottleneck—the one he had been stuck at for eighty years—simply dissolved.

  CRACK.

  The sky above the palace didn't turn dark. Instead, it turned a brilliant, shimmering gold. Thousands of phantom cranes appeared in the air, singing songs of the higher realms.

  "Your Majesty?" Li’er gasped, dropping her orange.

  Lu Tian’s aura expanded. His hair, once peppered with a bit of "stress gray," turned a vibrant, youthful black. His skin glowed with the luster of a Golden Immortal.

  "I... I just broke through," Lu Tian said, blinking in surprise. "I wasn't even trying. I was just thinking about how funny it is that Xian-er is currently more stressed than I am."

  "Congratulations, husband!" the wives cheered, piling onto the divan to hug him.

  Lu Tian laughed, his voice booming with the power of a Golden Immortal. "This is perfect! With this strength, I can live another thousand years! Which means... I can stay on the throne just long enough to make sure Xian-er has absolutely no way to escape his coronation!"

  Meanwhile, back in the garden, I felt the Golden Immortal surge from the pavilion. I let out a long, exhausted groan.

  "Great," I muttered, looking at my hands. "Father just got stronger. Which means he’s going to be even harder to prank. And my siblings are currently looking at me like I’m a new religion."

  I looked at the now-defunct Zhou Empire on my mental map. I had achieved my goal: my family was safe. But the cost was my anonymity.

  "Free at last," I whispered sarcastically, leaning back against the fountain. "Free to be the most famous person in the world. I really am the worst shark in history."

  But as the sun set over Luòtiān, and the laughter of my family echoed from the pavilion, a small part of me—the part that wasn't a corporate shark—felt something I hadn't felt in my past life.

  I felt home.

  And if I had to liquidate every empire in the Divine Realm to keep this home quiet enough for a nap, then so be it.