Emperor Yongchang's laughter erupted abruptly on the deathly silent official road, like a copper gong cracked by an iron hammer.

Before everyone had recovered from the shock of the auspicious omen descending from the heavens, he had already begun to laugh.

"Hahaha..." The laughter was sharp and trembling, with a raspy, cracking quality that made one's scalp tingle.

He laughed until his whole body shook, the beads on his flat-topped imperial crown clattered, and his bright yellow dragon robe wrapped around his thin frame as he swayed back and forth.

The civil and military officials, the commoners on the periphery, and the ten thousand personal troops behind Empress Su Mingyue all shifted their gazes from the night sky where the Phoenix had disappeared to this young Emperor who could not stop laughing.

"The Divine Phoenix has descended... it is the return of destiny!"

Emperor Yongchang spread his arms and took a step forward from the welcome pavilion, his voice rising high and sharp.

It was as if he wanted to squeeze all the resentment and unwillingness he had bottled up in his chest these past few days into this single shout.

"This is the return of destiny! Empress Su Mingyue, this is Heaven knowing that my inner palace still lacks a mistress with the demeanor of a Phoenix to rule the world; this is Heaven bestowing a marriage upon us! Hahaha..."

The laughter still echoed in the night wind, but the air along the entire official road seemed to have frozen.

The commoners kneeling on the ground on the periphery looked at each other, some with their mouths hanging open, forgetting to close them.

Some lowered their heads to whisper to those beside them, while others craned their necks to peer toward the front of the welcome pavilion.

The shouts of "Young Marshal" gradually died down.

They had seen the Divine Phoenix manifest with their own eyes; such a large fire Phoenix flying in a circle above the Young Marshal could not be faked.

But since Your Majesty said it was a marriage bestowed by Heaven, it seemed to make some sense.

Since ancient times, wasn't an Empress who rules the world with the demeanor of a Phoenix, a Phoenix herself?

Could it be that this Phoenix was really sent down by Heaven to play matchmaker for Your Majesty and the Young Marshal?

An old scholar in the crowd stroked his beard and nodded repeatedly, while a woman covered her mouth with her sleeve and said to the person beside her, "It is indeed a match made in heaven."

A young man knit his brows, feeling that something was wrong, yet unable to say what.

The buzzing discussions on the periphery spread, like a pot of water being heated, with fine bubbles beginning to rise on the surface.

Empress Su Mingyue stood where she was, not responding, her face still wearing that calm, unruffled expression.

Her black armor glinted coldly in the torchlight, and the silver spear behind her rested diagonally in Dongmei's hands, its tip trembling slightly.

That was because Dongmei's knuckles were gripping the spear too tightly.

The expressions of the several head maids darkened almost simultaneously.

Chunlan was expressionless, Xiahe lowered her eyes, and Qiuju's lips were pressed into a thin line devoid of color.

The four of them had followed the Eldest Young Miss since they were small.

They had helped her change into her armor on the Martial Arts Training Ground, held her horse in the wind and snow of the Northern Territory, and accompanied her on Wild Wolf Slope as she bent down, handful by handful, to scoop up the soil soaked with blood.

They knew better than anyone that this Young Marshal in black armor before them had fought her way from Duanyun Ridge all the way to Anyang City.

She was not someone who could be forced back into a cage by a Puppet Emperor locked in a Imperial Palace using the words "bestow marriage."

But they were truly breaking into a cold sweat for the Eldest Young Miss.

If she agreed, she would fall into the trap.

If she refused, she would be accused of disrespecting the monarch, possessing merit so great it threatened the throne, and being arrogant and domineering.

It was true that Empress Su Mingyue held an army of a million in her hands, but the hardest thing in the world to block is the idle chatter of the masses.

Emperor Yongchang's move was nothing if not vicious. He was not proposing marriage; he was building a pyre, intending to roast Empress Su Mingyue on the fire of public righteousness.

Just as everyone was dumbfounded and the entire scene was dead silent, Emperor Yongchang spoke again.

He took another step forward, a smug smile hanging on his face.

His flat-topped imperial crown no longer shook, his voice no longer trembled, and he spoke with a resonant, confident tone, as if he already held the entire situation firmly in his grasp.

"I wish to unite in marriage with Empress Su Mingyue, confer upon her the title of Empress, and set a date for the wedding. An imperial decree shall be drafted immediately and announced to the world. What do you, my beloved ministers, think?"

Zhou Ming stood behind the officials, his face turning dark.

In his heart, he cursed that son of a bitch eight hundred times.

Dammit, he had exhausted himself, stayed up for most of the night, and crouched in a cave, stitching together a fire Phoenix needle by needle.

This was a stage prepared for Empress Su Mingyue; how could he let a guy like this ruin it?

And he was shamelessly using it as an excuse, thinking of such a sweet deal?

As a Puppet Emperor whose decrees couldn't even leave the palace gates, was he even worthy of marrying Empress Su Mingyue?

The more he thought about it, the angrier he became.

Zhou Ming slowly reached his hand into his wide robe sleeve, turned his magic power at his fingertips, and silently formed a spell.

Heavenly Thunder Curse.

It was a thunder technique he had studied for several days in Wuying Hall before mastering.

A single-target thunder curse, with very little power, but a tremendous sound.

The best part was that it didn't need to be shot from his fingertips; as long as his Divine Sense locked onto the target, the lightning would strike out of thin air directly above the opponent's head.

Everyone was looking at Emperor Yongchang. No one noticed Zhou Ming's lips moving silently to utter a few words.

The night sky was clear as if washed, cloudless for ten thousand miles, with only a few sparse, cold stars hanging in the depths of the firmament.

Then, without warning, a thunderbolt appeared out of thin air directly above the welcome pavilion.

It did not strike down from the clouds.

That purple-gold lightning bolt slammed down from the night sky out of nowhere, without any warning.

Like a spear of light thrown from beyond the heavens, it struck precisely in the center of the ceremonial canopy above Emperor Yongchang's head.

The brocade on the canopy was instantly burned, creating a scorched hole the size of a fist. The wooden ribs of the umbrella snapped in two with a crack, and half of the umbrella handle, along with scorched fabric, crashed down beside Emperor Yongchang's feet.

The thunder exploded in the low altitude, muffled and short. The sound wave rolled over everyone's heads, and several old officials in the front row were so shaken that their eardrums buzzed, and they were scared into sitting down on the ground.

Outside, some commoners hugged their children's heads, while others instinctively buried their heads deeper into the muddy ground.

The tens of thousands of people on the official road outside Yongning City were deathly silent under this thunderbolt.

It wasn't that they were brewing anything; they were truly scared silly.

The moon was bright, the stars were sparse, and the sky was cloudless, yet a bolt of lightning struck out of thin air onto the head of the Emperor who had just finished saying he wanted to marry the Young Marshal.

If this wasn't Heavenly Retribution, what was?

Before the welcome pavilion, Emperor Yongchang slumped on the ground, his face as pale as a sheet of rice paper just fished out of water.

His flat-topped imperial crown was tilted to the side of his ear, a string of beads had broken, and the beads rolled all over the ground.

His mouth was still open, but he could not make a sound from his throat.

His lips moved several times as if he wanted to say something, but he couldn't make a sound, only his teeth kept chattering up and down.

His bright yellow dragon robe was soaked from the knees down.

The dark water stain continued to spread downward at a rate visible to the naked eye, and pale yellow liquid flowed out from inside his boots, soaking a small patch on the floor of the welcome pavilion.

The commoners on the periphery were the first to recover.

Those who were bolder climbed up from the ground and, using the light of the torches, looked toward the welcome pavilion, seeing Your Majesty slumped on the ground with his pants soaked through, his legs still shaking uncontrollably.

"Your Majesty was struck by lightning!"

"Your Majesty was struck by lightning just after saying he would bestow a marriage!"

"Heavenly Retribution! That is Heavenly Retribution!"

The commoners on the periphery began to discuss it in hushed tones.

Some were even whispering, "Heaven is slapping him in the face."

Zhou Ming stepped out from the ranks of officials, his expression solemn and pained. He raised his hands in a cupped fist salute high above his head, his voice low and steady:

"Your Majesty, this must not be done. A thunderclap on such a clear day."

"This is Heaven issuing a warning. I implore Your Majesty to reconsider."

The pained emotion in Zhou Ming's tone was perfectly judged.

It was as if he were not kicking a man while he was down, but was genuinely worried about Your Majesty's safety.

"I implore Your Majesty to reconsider." Director Chen, who was in front of Zhou Ming, followed closely, stepping out and bowing with a loud voice.

Then a second, a third, a fourth... the civil and military officials stepped out one after another to offer a cupped fist salute, their movements so synchronized it was as if they had rehearsed it in the Taihe Hall.

"We implore Your Majesty to retract the imperial order..."

The voices of dozens of people converged into a deep, booming wave of sound, echoing along the empty official road.