Chapter 8: A Sage Must Carry Himself Like a Sage

Outside the main hall of the Sacred Palace, in a side chamber, the chief guards were gathered together, discussing the urgent summons from the Sage calling all the empire’s top leadership. What earth-shattering event could have transpired?

The atmosphere was lively.

Unlike the often stiff, indifferent, or even subtly hostile relationships between the legion commanders, the chief guards generally enjoyed harmonious camaraderie. Much of this was thanks to Sharan, the chief guard of the Tenth Legion.

This venerable elder, with her striking beauty and radiant charm, possessed not only an open heart and warm personality but also a commanding presence as statuesque as her impressive figure.

Like a natural adhesive, she found common ground with everyone, regardless of gender, infusing this unique little circle with vitality.

Jen quietly sat in the corner, listening attentively to the seniors’ discussion. Reserved and taciturn by nature, she usually played the role of listener, only softly interjecting when the conversation touched on matters within her knowledge.

The spirited debate lasted over an hour.

At last, a servant’s announcement came from outside the side chamber: “Everyone, the imperial audience has concluded.”

“Oh, it ended so soon? I wished to chat longer with you all. What a pity,” Sharan said brightly, rising first and tossing her enchanting waves of black hair back with a radiant smile. “Let’s gather again when time allows!”

“Mm,” Jen and the other chief guards nodded in agreement and rose to leave the chamber.

They passed through a quiet corridor, turned two corners, and soon found themselves in a hallway lined with bright red carpet.

Immediately, the expressions of those present turned solemn.

The legion commanders were filing out in single file, exchanging not even glances, as if separated by an invisible wall of ice.

In stark contrast, the cabinet officials followed closely behind, gathering in small groups, speaking in hushed tones with grave expressions as they discussed how to implement the Sage’s decrees.

Jen’s gaze swept beyond the crowd, sharply catching sight of a familiar figure in a vermilion dragon robe slowly advancing at the corridor’s end.

What made her heart skip a beat was the slender woman who followed closely at the Sage’s side.

Even from behind, that elegant bearing and distinctive aura could captivate one utterly.

What made Jen’s pupils contract was that the woman wore a distinguished black dragon robe.

Quickly regaining her composure, Jen hurried to the side of her own legion commander, Serena, silently following.

Only after passing through that almost magical “anywhere door” and returning to the familiar courtyard of the Fourth Legion’s residence did Jen finally voice her curiosity and shock in a low whisper:

“Commander Serena, who is that woman in the dragon robe beside the Sage?”

A sly curve lifted Serena’s lips as she casually dropped a shocking answer: “Her? The newly crowned Empress.”

“Ah?!” Jen was struck as if by thunder, frozen in place, exclaiming in disbelief, “No, no way! How is that possible?!”

Seeing Jen’s adorable, almost petrified expression, Serena couldn’t help but chuckle, a mischievous glint flashing in her emerald eyes. “Just kidding. Little Jen is still so easy to fool.”

She raised a hand and affectionately tapped Jen’s pert nose. “But her identity really is extraordinary.

As for the details—those aren’t ready to be told yet. When the time comes, you’ll understand.”

“Commander Serena!” Jen recovered, her fair cheeks flushing crimson. Even when “angry,” her soft voice was like a cute, disgruntled kitten. “Please don’t joke like that! You scared me half to death!”

Serena smiled as she stroked Jen’s golden braid, yet beneath that lighthearted facade, her heart was heavy.

She had always known there was a gulf between herself and the Sage.

But she held onto a sliver of hope that with relentless effort, innate talent, and the right opportunities, perhaps one day she could bridge that gap.

Yet the arrival of Nangong Lin was like unveiling an infinite star chart before her eyes, making her painfully aware that the chasm was an abyssal divide.

Qi Refinement, Foundation Establishment, Golden Core, Nascent Soul, Spirit Transformation, Fusion, Tribulation, Great Perfection.

Each major stage was subdivided into early, middle, and late phases.

Her source power was only equivalent to the late Nascent Soul stage.

Nangong Lin was a peerless Great Perfection cultivator.

Yet even so formidable a figure was utterly helpless before the Sage.

So what realm, unreachable and sublime, did the Sage seated upon the dragon throne truly possess?

Merely imagining that abyssal disparity spread an ineffable despair through her.

Still, amid that soil of despair, Serena’s warrior heart blazed with even fiercer fire.

If... if she could also embark upon the path of cultivation in the Divine Continent?

Her life would be extended beyond imagining.

Perhaps, through endless years of accumulation, she might truly close that seemingly impossible gap, step by step, inch by inch.

Provided the Sage had reached the limit of his power.

But did the Sage truly have a limit?

Serena did not know.

Perhaps only the Sage himself could answer that question.

…

In the Sacred Palace, the imperial study.

White Jade Jing had not come here in a long time.

Since the empire had entered a stable phase, his appearances at the Sacred Palace each year were rare, mostly brief visits around the turn of the year.

His office was usually in the main hall, not the study.

Yet, despite his absence, the study remained impeccably clean.

On the pristine white walls hung oil paintings and ink masterpieces by the empire’s top artists.

Outside the vast floor-to-ceiling windows, the meticulously tended gardens bloomed like a painting through every season, offering a breathtaking view.

Most striking was the enormous bookshelf occupying the entire western wall, reaching to the ceiling.

Its shelves were densely packed with books, so new they seemed freshly delivered from the press, emitting a faint scent of ink.

White Jade Jing sat behind the broad crescent-shaped rosewood desk, casually switching on the top-tier desktop computer before him.

Before his return, domestic affairs had been handled by the cabinet.

Only in cases of truly critical emergencies would the prime minister seek his counsel.

The military was the same.

The Supreme Command, composed of thirteen legion commanders, was usually led by the First Legion Commander as marshal, managing military matters large and small.

Once he returned to the Sacred Palace, all documents processed by the cabinet and Supreme Command required his approval to take effect.

This was a system he had established.

“Come to think of it, it’s been a long time since I’ve handled official business properly,” White Jade Jing muttered, eyeing the dozens of unread messages suddenly popping up on his screen.

Not far away, seated on a plush sofa, Nangong Lin was flipping through a book about superpowered individuals from Blue Star.

Hearing his remark, she looked up with her cold, clear eyes and said calmly, “Since you’re stretched thin, why not let me serve as the honorary principal of Kunlun Academy? It would spare you the trouble.”

“No,” White Jade Jing rejected firmly.

Nangong Lin was already a teacher guiding students; granting her the principalship would give her too much power.

He did not want to encourage unnecessary ambition.

“But…” White Jade Jing shifted tone and smiled sincerely at Nangong Lin, “Your willingness to help lighten my burden is truly rare.”

Nangong Lin set the book down, raising a delicate brow as if sensing something.

Leaning slightly forward, White Jade Jing proposed earnestly, “You’ve already split off several incarnations to handle cultivation of heavenly materials, techniques, and the adaptation of superpowers.

Why not create one more to read through this paperwork for me?”

Nangong Lin responded indifferently, “For such trivial matters, find someone else.”

“That’s inconvenient,” White Jade Jing spread his hands. “In front of those young people, I have to maintain some dignity.

If I slack off too much, it would ruin the Sage’s image.”

Nangong Lin was persuaded by that reasoning.