The King's chamber was silent.
The last breath of Xiao Muo Heng still echoed in Yi Feng's ears, as if pressing down on his shoulders with an unseen weight. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the cold marble floor beneath his feet, then slowly stepped out toward the great hall.
The hall was filled with suffocating silence. The ministers, servants, and remaining family members bowed respectfully, their faces hidden behind restrained sorrow. Only the ticking of the wall clock could be heard clearly, as if counting every second left before the fate of the kingdom changed.
General Li Zue An, the Prime Minister, stepped forward. His body was firm, but his eyes held deep sorrow.
"Your Majesty," his voice sounded firm yet gentle, "your father has passed away. To ensure a smooth transition of the throne, the coronation ceremony must be prepared immediately. Several important decisions must be agreed upon first."
Yi Feng looked at each of the ministers' faces one by one. His breathing was heavy, and his heart pounded fast, but he restrained every surge of anxiety that tried to escape. His lips felt a little dry, and his eyes glanced briefly at his father's body, laid neatly before them. The scent of incense filled the air, accompanying the flickering candlelight around the hall.
"I… understand. Proceed," said Yi Feng, his voice slightly hoarse but firm. He restrained the trembling of his hands, trying to project composure before everyone watching him.
Silence once again enveloped the room. Some concubines stifled their sobs, servants bowed their heads, and several ministers exchanged glances, realizing the weight of the responsibility now resting upon Yi Feng's shoulders.
From the right side, General Li, the Right Prime Minister, stepped forward. His voice was soft but certain.
"Your Majesty, tomorrow at noon, the coronation ceremony will be held. In addition, the funeral procession of King Xiao Muo Heng must be prepared immediately to comply with royal tradition."
Yi Feng lowered his gaze, suppressing the sudden quickening of his heartbeat. His hand gripped his robe tightly, while his lips held back words he did not wish to speak. Yet in his eyes, a determination slowly formed—a resolve to bear the throne and the responsibilities that now belonged to him.
"Prepare everything," he finally said, his voice firm and full of authority, "tomorrow… I will ascend the throne before the kingdom and the people."
For a moment, the hall fell silent again, but this silence was no longer only grief. There was respect, hope, and tension awaiting Yi Feng's next step. The candles flickered brighter, shadows danced upon the walls, and Yi Feng knew—tomorrow, the throne would no longer be a mere symbol of power, but a true test for himself and for the kingdom now standing at the edge of change.
A new dawn broke through the glass windows of the palace's main hall, illuminating the polished marble floor with a golden glow. The fragrance of warm wood and candle wax mingled with the morning air, bringing a sense of silence and sanctity. The hall was filled with palace attendants, ministers, generals, and honored guests from neighboring kingdoms, all dressed in formal attire—fine silk hanfu in symbolic colors: red for courage, blue for loyalty, and gold for power. Their faces hid emotions behind courtesy, their gazes reflecting respect, hope, and a trace of tension.
In the center of the hall, Yi Feng stood upon the marble platform, wearing a dark-blue imperial robe embroidered with a golden dragon coiling around his chest, its tail winding down his sleeve. The dragon was not a mere ornament; it was a symbol of the heavens and the power bestowed upon the Emperor by Heaven itself. His hand gripped the golden ceremonial staff, carved with cloud patterns and a small phoenix at its base. His posture was upright, yet his breathing was still heavy, concealing the nervousness behind his dignified gaze. Every eye fixed upon him saw not merely a successor to the throne, but a future leader who would bring prosperity and honor to the Xiao Kingdom.
General Li Zue An, dressed entirely in black with bronze-layered armor gleaming under the light, took a step forward. His voice was firm, echoing through the high hall:
"Your Majesty, all preparations have been completed. The ministers await your final command. The people have been informed of today's ceremony, and the temporary altar is ready for the final tribute to the late King Xiao Muo Heng."
Yi Feng nodded, his eyes gazing upon the row of ministers kneeling respectfully. Each face conveyed a mixture of reverence, hope, and unspoken tension. He took a deep breath, calming the restless beat of his heart, then raised his voice:
"Begin the ceremony."
From the side hall, the slow beat of ritual drums echoed, followed by the soft chime of bronze bells. The guards, wearing finely layered armor, stood firmly on either side of the hall, their swords gleaming under the dawn light. The air was filled with the rhythmic sound of measured footsteps, silk shoes striking the marble floor and echoing—a sacred rhythm.
One by one, the ministers walked toward Yi Feng. They bowed until their hands touched the floor in respect, presenting documents of approval and the royal seal—symbols of acknowledgment of Yi Feng's rightful ascension as ruler. Every movement followed strict protocol, from the position of the hands to the angle of the gaze, reflecting obedience and reverence toward traditions passed down for centuries.
As Yi Feng signed the final document with a brush dipped in gold pigment, time seemed to slow. He looked toward the temporary altar where his father's body was enshrined. A shadow of sorrow crossed his heart, but he gently brushed it aside, straightened his shoulders, took a deep breath, and lifted his head with the dignity that marked the birth of an emperor.
"With the power bestowed by Heaven, through the mandate of the people and the legacy of my ancestors, I, Yi Feng, officially accept the throne of the Xiao Kingdom," he declared, his voice steady and echoing through the entire hall. The morning light shone upon his robe, making the golden dragon embroidery appear alive, as if the dragon itself bowed in approval.
Soft applause rose from the guests and ministers, yet beneath the clapping, Yi Feng still felt the heavy burden in his chest. Every word he spoke was a promise—a vow to lead, to protect his people, and to continue his father's legacy with justice and wisdom.
After the ceremony ended, the ministers retreated to their positions, and Yi Feng stood alone on the platform. The sunlight streamed through the tall windows, reflecting on the marble floor, illuminating every detail of the golden dragon embroidery on his robe. He took a deep breath, letting sorrow, responsibility, and determination blend into new strength within him.
That day, Yi Feng was no longer a prince. He was the Emperor, the bearer of Heaven's Mandate.
And although the world around him awaited his first step, his heart knew—this was only the beginning of the true test.
Note:
"Beneath the shadow of the silent palace, the king has gone,
Yet fate never ceases to write its tale.
Life continues to flow, like a river that never rests,
Washing away the footprints in the sand, leaving lessons for those who remain.
Greatness is not about the throne or the crown,
But about the heart that can love and forgive.
Death is not the end, but the gate to understanding the meaning of life,
That every second is a gift, and every choice a legacy."