As Astara's population and economy grew, its central city became a sight to behold with stunning architecture. Walls with detailed carvings adorned every street, telling stories of heroic ancestors. By day, warm sunlight shone on the city, and by night, stars shimmered like breathtaking jewels, while the aurora borealis beamed in shades of green and violet.
The Flare Wing Palace of Middle Astara had a grand throne room surrounded by tall columns and endless hallways with beautifully carved arches. Its dome-shaped roof, decorated with stunning mosaics, looked like Pars architecture of West Asia. The palace garden had statues of their respected ancestors, leaders, and ancient Astaran warriors who had achieved great glory. One statue honored Deming's father, reminding everyone of their fight for freedom from the Fairy Tribe.
Feng Deming's face twisted in disgust as his eyes, resembling molten lava, looked around the throne room, filled with disapproving glances from his people. While most honored him as a great leader, some West Astarans refused to surrender.
"You're just a man who's barely passed the age of a boy," the Western King sneered at the younger man seated on the grand throne on a raised platform.
"Oh, is that so?" Deming calmly raised an eyebrow, finding the man's bold words rather amusing. He held the highest authority as the King of Kings, dressed in luxurious black-gold robes and dark, shiny armor that sparkled in the dim light.
"I may lack your strength, but when my people unite, our collective power becomes unmatched."
The room fell silent. Deming's eye twitched, his fists clenched, and his head subtly tilted as he considered his next move.
The Western King took his silence as an insult and stated with a fierce look in his eyes, "Feng Deming, we demand a fair battle for the throne!" his words echoed off the stone walls.
Standing up from his throne, Deming's tall, imposing figure formed a dark shadow over the trembling man. His fierce gaze on the Western King ignited fear, causing the man's eyes to widen under the Supreme Lord's threatening stare. The surrounding onlookers started to lose confidence in supporting the Western King.
Deming narrowed his eyes and spat out each word, intentionally intimidating, maintaining an unblinking glare, "King... of... the... West," his voice a harsh, deep tone.
The ministers and the kings from the Eastern, Northern, and Southern regions trembled in the throne room, feeling Deming's intention to execute the Western King.
"You want to kill me? Then try," Deming's strong voice echoed, and he walked down the stairs with purpose, each step growing more intense.
The Western King swallowed hard, realizing the danger in the suffocating throne room. The nobles held their breath, waiting for the Astaran Supreme Lord's next move.
Deming stood tall over the Western King. His golden eyes, fierce as the sun, pierced through the older man's gaze, forming a scowl that frightened those present. "However..."
Suddenly, the Western King felt a crushing pressure on his throat. He struggled to breathe as Deming lifted him off the floor, desperately trying to break free. He trembled, unsure if he would survive.
"Before you kill me, let me ask this question," Deming snarled, tightening his grip as the room fell silent. "Officials of West Astara, you have suffered for years under Fairy Rule, and what did your king do to make you blindly follow him? What has he done to restore Astara's glory?"
The Western King's gasps and wheezes occasionally broke the eerie silence as he fought for breath. Nobles and officials murmured, their faces reflecting shock and fear.
"ANSWER ME!" Deming roared, his frown deepening, his eyes burning with intensity.
The officials of West Astara, who had underestimated the Supreme Lord, could only avoid his gaze in fear.
"If you had the power to overthrow any Astaran Supreme, you would have done so to my father or his servant years ago while they were still alive. But you failed where a mere boy succeeded. You, and everyone in West Astara, lack the means to end my life because I am... immortal," Deming sneered.
Hearing about Feng Deming's claim of immortality shocked the Western King. However, unlike his people, he quickly dismissed Deming's outrageous statement as a foolish way to provoke fear.
"However, if you insist on separating yourselves from the rest of us, I'll allow it. That is... if you still wish to follow a useless king's promise," Deming calmly stated, loosening his grip.
The Western King fell to the hard stone floor, gasping and rubbing his throat. He realized he had lost the trust of his people and Deming, and fear and desperation twisted his face.
The Northern King hesitated, "My Lord Feng Deming, may I inquire about the reason for permitting the traitor's plans to unfold?"
"Your concerns are as insignificant as the dust beneath my feet, King of the North. Do not assume to interfere in affairs beyond your limited understanding."
The Northern King humbly bowed in fear. "I apologize, my Lord."
"You only have a say in matters concerning the fairies," Deming's eyes reflected thoughts of payback as he stared at the kneeling king, commanding in a chilling tone, "Bring forth the spies!"
The Western King looked surprised and skeptical as guards in black armor brought his partners forward. The henchmen, dressed in torn robes, knelt in shame on the polished stone floor. One of the spies was the soldier who delivered his message to Feng Deming last night.
"Did you really think I'd just allow you to do whatever you wanted? To incite unrest among us and fulfill the fairies' desire to weaken us?" Deming scrutinized the Western King and briefly raised his hands, smoothing down his wide sleeves. "Take this as a lesson. Prepare for the execution of these spies at nightfall."
"As you command, my Lord!"
Since the Western King's deception had come to light, it would be pointless for him to seek mercy.
During Feng Deming's rule, many people in all realms wished him harm. Yet, he paid them no attention, as no one matched his power. However, one thing he could not tolerate was betrayal by his own people.
Deming faced the Western King, his back partially turned. "Your scheme to divide Astara ends now," his voice echoed with authority in the throne room. "You have until the end of the tenth month. On that day at sunset, come with what is left of your people to the Middle Mountains, and I shall personally deliver your death." His voice showed no mercy, allowing no room for negotiation. "Now, leave the Flare Wing Palace."
The grand throne room fell silent as Feng Deming, the immortal Astaran Supreme, appeared even more intimidating than his father.
Deming glared at the nobles and officials. "If anyone else dares to challenge me, you are welcome to join him and meet the same fate," his presence cold and imposing as light shimmered on his dark, iridescent armor.
Nobles and officials knelt before the ruthless tyrant, knowing that defying him meant certain death.
Deming walked elegantly toward the exit of the throne room, his back straight, and his black boots clicking and echoing on the stone floor. As the door opened, the crowd started whispering. Some felt fear and uncertainty, while others found a bit of hope.
The Southern King raised his head and took a determined step forward. "My esteemed Astaran Supreme Lord, Feng Deming," catching his lord's attention. "Our tribe has suffered for too long under the oppressive rule of the Fairy Realm. We endured thousands of years of mockery, oppression, and the erasure of our culture and traditions. We are ready to stand by your side, fight alongside you, and restore the long-lost glory of our people."
Deming stopped in his tracks. "I shall overthrow them, conquer all realms, and restore Astara to its former glory. Every so-called 'god' in the Fairy Realm will be eradicated, and none will be spared. This is my promise to Astara."
The Astarans, who had fought in many wars against the fairies, found hope in Feng Deming's authority. His ability to kill tens of thousands in a single attack made him the fairies' worst nightmare. However, to the Astarans, he represented hope for peace in their ongoing struggle against the oppressive Fairy Tribe.
With their hopes up and full of admiration, the crowd responded to their lord with a humble bow to express their loyalty, and their voices hailed Deming in a pledge of support.
As Deming turned around, his eyes cold and detached, he observed the submissive crowd. 'Lord Muchen... I will tear you apart,' his gaze narrowing with piercing intensity. 'I will ensure you writhe in agony as I wrench your beating heart from your chest.' The sinister notion left a wicked smirk on his lips.
In the heart of a grand and ancient palace, Lord Muchen occupied a throne, surrounded by luxury that spoke of his immense wealth and power. His ebony hair flowed freely as a man approached him, his steps hesitant.
Beside Muchen stood Yize, the handsome general with long silver hair flowing down his back like a silken waterfall. His flowing white robe swirled around him, his posture mirroring Muchen's intensity, his voice trembling, "Is there a way to stop Feng Deming, my lord?"
Muchen's intense eyes slowly shifted towards him, and he leaned forward with grace, a subtle smirk on his lips. "He is too strong now," his voice calm but with an underlying menace. "There is a way to stop him. However, we would have to wait."
"Could I know the reason behind the waiting?" Yize's voice, though steady, yet a flicker of curiosity passed through his eyes.
A deep sigh escaped Muchen's lips, his fingers tightening around the armrest of his throne, the wood creaking under the pressure. He leaned back, his gaze never leaving Yize. "There is a prophecy about our downfall... But there is a way to bypass it. Soon, after millions of years of absence, the missing son of Fei Chaoxiang will return to us. He is the only one who can help us trapping Feng Deming."
Yize's eyes widened, his breath hitching. "Lord Chaoxiang, your ancestor's... missing son? I thought that he—"
"He had a younger son," Muchen interrupted, his fists clenched, knuckles white against the dark wood. His brows furrowed in frustration, the mask of calm slipping.
Yize hesitated, glancing at Muchen's clenched fists before continuing. "What is the prophecy about exactly?"
Muchen's expression darkened, his gaze piercing. "Lord Chaoxiang was the only one who saw the prophecy. According to that, an Astaran man and woman will join forces and destroy us."
Yize swallowed hard, his composure faltering as he absorbed the gravity of Muchen's words. "This wickedness must be prevented."
Muchen nodded slowly, his cold and rigid eyes bore into the general's. "Everyone you have ever known here would die, Yize. This is why we cannot risk anything and show mercy to them."
"Yes, my lord... But how did his son go missing?" Yize stepped closer, his curiosity and concern engraved into his features.
"As soon as the girl was born, Lord Chaoxiang sent her away through a portal. However, his toddler son was there when it happened..."
"Leading to him entering another world with the girl," Yize finished, deep in thought. "I see..."
Muchen took a deep breath, his eyes narrowing. "Once the son returns, the girl returns to us as well."
Yize, now standing before Muchen in the grand white hall adorned with silk woven cloths and towering white pillars, furrowed his brow even deeper as he stepped closer. "Who is the man that she joins forces with?" His voice, almost a whisper, filled with the weight of impending doom.
Muchen's cold gaze bore into Yize's, a narrow bottle materializing in his hand. He handed it to Yize, the ancient scroll inside it glowing. "Lord Chaoxiang painted the man's face."
Yize's breath caught in his chest, eyes widening in disbelief as he took out the scroll. "Th-That's!"
"None other than Feng Deming, indeed." Muchen's face contorted in a scowl, hands trembling a little.
Yize's nervousness showed as he considered his next question, eyes fixed on Muchen's. "Do you have a portrait of the girl?"
"No, Lord Chaoxiang never painted the girl's face." Muchen gave a heavy sigh and studied Yize's expression. "You seem concerned about something."
"I simply... I am confused... Does the prophecy tell us anything about... perhaps, if the son knows the girl?" Yize's voice faltered.
"What are the odds for them to encounter each other there, civilizations among civilizations? Moreover, as you know, fairies and demons are enemies by nature. If they ever encounter each other there, they will kill each other. But according to the prophecy, both the girl and Lord Chaoxiang's son will return to this world in one piece... And we would have to eliminate her when that happens," Muchen's voice delivered a cold, firm command.
Yize's jaws clenched, his brows twitching. "Yes, I understand..." his voice filled with reluctant acceptance.
Muchen raised his chin, eyes narrowing as he traced Yize's trembling brows. "I am aware of your gentle nature, Yize. However, you must realize that I am counting on your strength, as right now, you are the strongest one on our side until the son arrives. Now is not the time to spare any Astaran."
Yize bit his lip, shifting his weight as his hands trembled and clenched his jaw, struggling to maintain his composure. Nonetheless, he pushed aside his empathy and nodded in understanding. His expression turned serious as he acknowledged the severity of the situation. "Understood, my Lord. We will be prepared when the time comes... But there is something I want to ask. Why would the Astaran man and woman join forces? Are they... Are they destined to be lovers by any chance?"
Muchen scoffed at the notion. "Even though they share a fate, love is not a factor in this prophecy. They will work together to bring us down. Before Lord Chaoxiang removed her powers, she possessed an extraordinary talent for strategy and war planning, unmatched by anyone. Although I lack complete knowledge of her current abilities, I am aware that she is physically weak and vulnerable now. Also, Feng Deming is devoid of love. He is a monster. No matter how beautiful or charming the girl may be, it will not sway him."
Yize's expression hardened, his nod slow and deliberate, absorbing Muchen's words. "I will do what must be done."
Muchen gave a firm nod of approval, his gaze returning to the distant horizon. "Good. Prepare the troops. We must be ready for their return." His voice echoed through the grand hall.
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