The Hollow Empire had no official ruler.
Zhao Ying's fall left the throne vacant in the eyes of the court, the sects, and the nobles.
But now—everyone felt it.
From the frost-cloaked cliffs of the northern border to the molten mines of the Flamebone Ridge, cultivators felt their cores tremble. Arrays failed. Beasts wailed. Even wandering spirits wept as the skies darkened and a single mark shimmered above the capital:
A black sigil of flame and shadow.
The mark of the Hollow Throne.
It burned with abyssal qi and demonic will, unfamiliar to most—but ancient to a few.
---
In the Crimson Lotus Pavilion, Sect Mistress Lin snapped her fan shut, her pupils dilating.
"That seal... It hasn't appeared since the Sovereign War."
One of her disciples stepped forward nervously. "You mean the Demon Sovereign?"
Lin narrowed her eyes.
"No. Worse."
---
In the southern marshlands, a blind hermit seated in a lotus position opened his rotting eyes.
"The abyss rises once more," he croaked. "And the one they betrayed has claimed the Throne again. Those fools… they've awakened him too early."
He wept blood and laughed.
---
In a hidden temple deep within the Hollow Empire's mountain spine, robed monks gathered before a broken idol. One raised a scroll.
"The mark has returned," he intoned. "The Abyss recognizes him. Our silence must end."
They knelt as one, chanting words long forbidden by celestial law.
---
Back in the capital, chaos erupted.
The remaining loyalists to the Zhao bloodline tried to rally forces—but their attempts were crushed when the imperial altar pulsed. Dark lightning struck down any who approached with hostile intent.
Kael, now returned, stood atop a high wall, arms crossed. His armor, reforged with abyssal steel, shimmered with new patterns—patterns matching the Hollow Throne's sigil.
He smirked.
"This is just the beginning."
---
Within the throne chamber, Liu Shen remained seated, but his mind moved faster than ever.
The Hollow Throne was not just a seat.
It was a core.
A control point for forgotten constructs, abyssal war machines, and slumbering formations hidden throughout the empire.
He accessed its memory.
Fragments of history surged into him—past rulers who tried to tame the Throne, celestial attempts to seal its power, and the original pact between the Demon Sovereign and the Abyss itself.
It had once been part of his domain.
And now it had returned.
---
Yu Meixing entered the chamber quietly, Yue'er by her side.
"The nobles will come," she said. "And the sects. Some to kneel. Most to test you."
Liu Shen nodded, his voice low but firm. "Let them."
Meixing met his eyes. "You've changed."
"No," he said. "I've remembered."
The throne's memory had restored a piece of him—his original dominion over the Hollow Empire. It was not just a lost fragment of power.
It was a strategic stronghold in the war against the heavens.
And the throne—once corrupted, now awakened—could reshape the balance of the mortal world.
---
A tremor ran through the city.
Atop the imperial altar, a tower of shadow began forming. Made not from stone but condensed spiritual intent, it resembled a beacon—and at its peak blazed the sigil again.
A signal to allies.
A warning to enemies.
Liu Shen rose from the throne, his back straight, his gaze cold.
"This is our capital now," he declared. "Let those who seek to challenge it… climb over the bones of those who tried."
---
In the distance, ten armies began to march.
Some sent by desperate lords.
Others by fearful sects.
And among them, hidden within caravans and cloaked ranks, spies of the Heaven's Pact advanced with purpose.
The heavens had felt the Throne awaken.
And they would not let history repeat itself.
---
But Liu Shen only smirked as the storm gathered.
Let them come.
He was done running.