One day later.
Yelang Imperial Palace, Emperor's bedroom.
Within the deep palace, the autumn scene was desolate, and the eunuchs and palace maids stood quietly outside the bedroom.
Inside the bedroom, the lights were bright, enveloped by a calming scent of musk, with a faint hint of medicinal aroma mixed in.
On the dragon bed, an elderly man with a shriveled face and sallow complexion was quietly lying there, large patches of gray-black air lingering between his brows, making him look like he had one foot in the grave.
However, this Yelang Monarch Xingluo was not yet sixty years old and should be in his prime as a Middle-Grade Martial Artist, yet at this moment he appeared like a dying tree.
"Come, Father, drink the medicine." At this moment, a voice sounded.
