Kent stood there while staring at the door of the 7th room. He was thinking very deeply about how to Steal all the Treasures within a short time. Just as he moved his eyes, his gaze landed on the side of the 7th room wall. where a tree shaped painting appeared.
It was a strange living artwork, the leaves glowing with different colors, each leaf carrying a name. His eyes scanned over it until they landed on a leaf that grabbed his attention—his mother’s name, engraved in bold letters on a red-colored leaf. Below her name, another leaf, this one glowing golden, bore the name “Long Wang Quinn”.
Kent stepped forward, his fingers brushing over the textured surface as if it held the secrets of his past.
“Who is this?” Kent’s voice was low, his tone controlled, but there was a seething storm beneath his calm demeanor.
Queen Soya, who had been following behind Kent with a smile, hesitated, her face darkening slightly. She clearly didn’t want to discuss this topic, but Kent’s piercing gaze forced her to answer.
“Why are you asking?” she replied, feigning ignorance, but Kent could feel the tension in her voice.
“Speak!” Kent’s voice echoed through the dimly lit hallway, leaving no room for evasion.
Queen Soya finally sighed, her expression hardening. “The emperor had a first wife. The name you pointed to is the son of that wife,” she explained cautiously. “The emperor discarded her and her son a long time ago. The reports say the child died… But that woman—she’s been hiding somewhere, trying to escape the emperor’s will.”
Kent’s jaw clenched. “Why did the emperor abandon them?”
Soya’s eyes narrowed, and for a brief moment, her prideful arrogance seeped through. “Because I made it happen. If the first wife had a son, it would threaten my children’s claim to the throne. I come from a powerful background, and my reputation had to remain flawless. That woman was from a lowly background, unsuitable to stand beside the emperor.”
She sneered, her words laced with venom. “The emperor gained the approval of the 9 Realms Association after marrying me. He tried to settle his first wife in his brother Ragnar’s home, but that only brought scandal upon us. So, to end the complications, I arranged for her and her son to disappear. It was necessary. A sin, yes, but necessary.”
Kent’s heart pounded in his chest. Rage boiled inside him, but he masked it with a cold stare. He was standing right before the woman who had orchestrated his mother’s banishment, who believed he had died.
He held himself back, clenching his fists behind his back, as Soya continued speaking, unaware of the storm brewing in Kent’s heart.
“No one remembers their existence anymore. I wiped out all traces. But this painting—this painting is alive, connected to the seventh room’s security. It cannot be altered. There is a clone of it outside my palace, though, and I’ve erased their names from that one.”
Kent felt a chill run down his spine. His mother, his real identity—Long Wang Quinn—the very name she had tried to erase was standing right before her. The temptation to strike her down then and there was overwhelming, but he knew better. Not yet. Your adventure continues at My Virtual Library Empire
“What do these leaf colors mean?” Kent asked, his voice sharp.
Soya glanced at the painting, oblivious to Kent’s inner turmoil. “Each leaf forms automatically when a child is born into the royal bloodline. The color represents their fate. My eldest son, Maxwell, has a white leaf—he’s destined to rule as the next emperor. My second son has a crimson red leaf, signifying his future as a powerful warrior who will wield forbidden powers.”
Kent’s eyes narrowed. “What does gold mean?” His voice cut through the air, a demand, not a question.
Soya hesitated again, clearly uncomfortable. “We don’t know exactly… but the royal astrologers said the child with a gold leaf is destined to become a Dragon Lord, a figure of unimaginable power and prosperity. That’s why he was named ‘Long Wang Quinn,’ meaning ‘Dragon Lord Respected.’ But sadly,” she scoffed, “he died before his fate could unfold.”
Kent’s lips curled into a smirk, the irony too rich. “Dragon Lord Respected,” he whispered under his breath as he withdrew his hand from the leaf.
—
Dead Island City…
The stunted beastmen were hard at work, their short, muscular forms struggling but succeeding in extracting the Titan Crystal Tree from the soil. Ropes and chains were tied to the massive tree, securing each branch as they carefully hoisted it from the ground, not daring to damage a single part of it.
Their chief, a beastman with a scar across his chest, oversaw the operation with intense focus.
“Move slow! Steady! Don’t break the roots!” he barked, his eyes darting around to ensure everything was in place. The tree was a rare treasure, and the city lord, Kent, had given them specific orders to extract it without fail.
The villagers, meanwhile, were busy working on the riverbed, laying the foundation for the fish-rearing pools. Kent had issued a strict decree—seven days of labor with no room for mistakes. Any villager who tried to return early would face severe punishment.
The city itself had been closed off. No visitors were allowed in or out. The beastmen guarded the borders fiercely, and not a single spy or wandering eye would dare approach without facing death.
—
Meanwhile, in the emperor’s court…
Emperor Ryon Lionheart, dressed in golden robes embroidered with the fierce sigil of a lion, sat upon his throne. His eyes, cold and calculating, scanned the scroll before him. He called for his royal advisor.
“Send word to all 33 kings. They are to attend the meeting on the next Lunar Day. The fate of the Trident Summit must be decided.” He commanded, his voice deep and authoritative.
The advisor bowed deeply, understanding the gravity of the emperor’s words. The Trident Summit was the most crucial event in the empire’s future, and every decision made there would affect the realms.
“Shall I send the messengers immediately, Your Majesty?” the advisor asked, his head bowed.
“Yes. And ensure no delays.” Ryon said, his tone serious.
As the advisor scurried away, the emperor sat back, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest of his throne. Everything was falling into place.
–
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