“……” Crown Prince Ziyang was still in his seat, his fingertips drumming fast on the table. He was plainly unsettled.

From their earlier talk, he had taken Shen Yi for a meticulous, ruthless man who knew how to bide his time—one whose greatest advantage was his youth, with time to spare.

He had actually been looking forward to seeing what methods the man would use to win the second dragon seal.

But Crown Prince Ziyang had never imagined Shen Yi would pick the simplest, crudest one of all—going from a player half sure of his game to something close to a madman at the gambling table.

Had he known, he would never have agreed to work with him.

To name the simplest problem: with Shen Yi's strength, how could he possibly be sure of killing Qi Shengtao, coiled over its Dragon Lair? And in so short a time, how was he supposed to keep his promise to deal with the Myriad Demon Hall?

Nothing prepared, nothing discussed with Ziyang, and he'd just strolled in like this.

And brought Ye Jiu and the others with him.

Honestly, Crown Prince Ziyang truly disliked people who gambled their futures with other people's lives.

Crack, crack.

Just then, a dull sound cut through everyone's thoughts.

Shen Yi's boot ground down viciously. Qi Zhaowen's mouth flew open, blood choking his throat, and every bone in his body was shattered at once by the force of heaven and earth. The hand that had been clawing at the broken steps, trying to crawl to Royal Father, finally slid away, limp.

He wanted to say something, but his head full of crown-prince dreams, and his life along with them, were ground out under that boot in an instant.

“Hhk… hhk…”

The sound of him choking on blood grew fainter.

Qi Zhaowen's death made one thing clear at once to everyone in the hall.

This Nanyang Sect Master hadn't come to negotiate, and had never meant to hold a dragon son hostage. Their Second Prince's life was the declaration of war he'd handed them.

From the moment these people…