My mom is waiting for treatment, and you're summoning me to be a hero?

When that shrill voice pierced the air above the square, everyone turned their heads at the same time.

At the end of the square, a guard of honor slowly walked along the red carpet.

Golden-armored guards led the way, followed by palace maids in colorful robes, and behind them was a bright yellow imperial carriage carried by sixteen men.

An old man sat atop the imperial carriage.

No, rather than sitting upright, it was more like lying half-reclined in that cushioned chair.

Li Yan, the current king of the Holy Ancient Empire.

He's too old.

So old that you can hardly recognize what you used to look like.

His skin sagged loosely on his cheekbones and was covered with dark brown age spots.

His eye sockets were sunken, and his cloudy eyes moved slightly, as if even moving his eyes required effort.

His lips were dry and slightly parted, revealing a few sparse teeth.

He wore a heavy golden crown on his head, which looked particularly out of place, as if it would break his thin neck.

His hand rested on the armrest, it was withered and thin, his knuckles were deformed, covered with a thin layer of skin that was almost transparent, and the veins underneath were bulging.

His entire body was huddled in that pile of luxurious cushions, like a dried-up corpse that hadn't quite died yet.

Only those cloudy eyes occasionally flashed a glimmer of light—the last vestige of the emperor's pitiful majesty.

An old man followed beside the imperial carriage.

The old man looked much younger than Li Yan, but he was at least seventy or eighty years old.

He was tall and strong, with a straight back, dressed in a dark gray outfit, with an ancient longsword hanging at his waist.

When his gaze swept across the crowd, everyone unconsciously avoided his eyes.

That gaze was so sharp.

Lin Mo frowned slightly.

He sensed that the old man's aura was even stronger than that of the hunter, solid and heavy, carrying a sense of oppression from years of killing.

"Demigod?"

He asked in a low voice.

Yin Xue poked his head out from his shoulder, his blood-red eyes fixed on the old man. He carefully sensed him for a few seconds, then shook his head.

"No. Demigods can comprehend the power of laws, but this guy doesn't have that kind of aura. He's only level ninety-nine, one step away from becoming a demigod."

Lin Mo nodded, relieved.

Level 99 is strong, but not invincible.

The imperial carriage slowly moved to the highest point of the VIP seating area, where guards carefully helped Li Yan down and placed her on the cushioned throne.

The process was long and arduous; the old man's body was like a skeleton that could fall apart at any moment, and he needed help with every movement.

The entire room fell silent.

No one dared to make a sound.

After Li Yan took her seat, a servant dressed in fine clothes walked to the altar, unfurled a golden scroll, and began to read aloud.

"The Glory Trial is a secret realm descended by the gods to guide brave warriors from all sides into it for trials. Within the secret realm, life and death are left to fate, and what is gained belongs to the individual. The trial lasts for three days. After three days, the secret realm will close automatically, and the survivors will be automatically teleported out."

He paused, then continued reading:

"The number of monsters killed in the secret realm will be recorded in real time, and the one with the higher score wins! Next, we announce the participants of this year's Glory Judgment Tournament: Zhou Yuanqing, son of the Marquis of the Northern Border from the Holy Ancient Empire, and Zhang Lie from the General of Zhennan's Mansion..."

The list is long, one after another.

Each time a name was called, cheers or discussions would erupt somewhere in the square.

But Lin Mo had no interest in any of this; his gaze merely swept over the bustling crowd before returning to his own.

His goal has never been here.

He turned and walked toward the stands reserved for the Second Prince.

The stands were completely covered by thick curtains, and a faint energy fluctuation shrouded the outside.

That's a shielding formation; it can isolate all prying eyes and perceptions.

Lin Mo lifted the curtain and went inside.

The curtains fell behind me, shutting out all the noise.

The stands were dark, with only a few candles flickering.

Yin Xue flew to his shoulder and asked softly, "Ready?"

Lin Mo nodded, then closed his eyes.

His consciousness reached out and extended outwards.

A few seconds later, he opened his eyes.

A different scene unfolded before my eyes.

Another voice came from beside me.

"Your Highness! Give the order!"

A rough voice exploded in my ears.

Lin Mo, now in Li Yiguang's body, raised his head and looked at the person in front of him.

Lai Hu, the deputy commander of the Imperial Guards, was a middle-aged military officer with a face full of scars.

He was fully armed, holding a large sword in his hand, his eyes burning with a fierce light.

Behind him stood eight hundred soldiers, a dark mass.

They were wearing Imperial Guard uniforms.

But everyone wore a red cloth tied around their chest—that was their mark.

Their weapons were drawn, their breathing was heavy and suppressed, and their eyes were fixed on the depths of the palace.

The south gate of the palace is just thirty feet ahead.

Once you pass through that door and charge in, there's no turning back.

Lin Mo took a deep breath.

This body is too weak.

Despite having reached level 58 at a young age thanks to the resources of the royal family.

However, having lived a life of luxury for so long, he would probably be no better than a level 50 warrior in actual combat.

He flexed his wrist, feeling the soft, yielding force, and a mocking smile appeared on his lips.

"Get ready to act."

Laihu nodded heavily, turned and growled at the eight hundred soldiers:

"Brothers! Charge with me!"

Eight hundred people marched forward simultaneously, like a black tide, surging towards the south gate of the palace.

Footsteps thundered, and shouts of battle shook the heavens.

But soon, Lin Mo left those voices behind.

He stood still, without moving.

Hunter Axe appeared beside him without him even noticing.

He carried the giant black axe, looked at the soldiers charging in, and then looked at himself.

Where are you going?

Lin Mo looked down at his own fragile body.

"This body is too weak to fight on the battlefield."

Hunter Axe grinned, about to say something, when Lin Mo turned and walked in another direction from the palace.

"So I'll go kill something else."

The hunter was taken aback.

"What else?"

Lin Mo didn't turn around; the voice drifted from ahead:

"Li Yan's descendants."

Hunter Axe's smile froze on his face.

He stared at the receding figure for a long while before he came to his senses.

Then he smiled, a smile that was complex, filled with emotion, and something else he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"Sure, our goal is just to create chaos here; the main focus is on your main body."

Lin Mo did not answer.

He has already gone far away.

……

The palace was in complete chaos, with all the capable servants busy dealing with Hunter Axe and Tiger.

Lin Mo controlled Li Yiguang's body and arrived at the harem without any obstacles.

The gates of the harem were cleaved open by a single sword strike.

Screams came from inside.

The maids scattered and fled.

The servants huddled in the corner with their heads in their hands.

Several elegantly dressed women huddled behind the screen in a panic.

Lin Mo walked in casually.

His gaze swept over the group and landed on a middle-aged woman wearing a bright yellow dress and a phoenix hairpin.

Empress.

Li Yan's legal wife and Li Yishao's biological mother.

When she saw that it was Li Yiguang who entered, the fear on her face turned into anger. She stood up, pointed at Lin Mo, and shrieked:

"Li Yiguang! You traitor! What do you think you're doing?! I am the Empress! You dare touch a single hair on my head..."

Lin Mo remained silent.

He had already walked up to her.

The queen looked into his eyes and suddenly stopped.

Those eyes...

Those are not Li Yiguang's eyes.

That good-for-nothing Li Yiguang never dared to look her in the eye like that.

His eyes always held a hint of flattery, a hint of fear, and a hint of barely concealed cowardice.

But now these eyes...

it's too cold.

Her voice trembled: "Who...who are you?"

Lin Mo looked at her and spoke, his voice calm:

"I am Li Yiguang now."