If you die, I will be able to inherit your cultivation.

Emperor Yongchang's laughter suddenly exploded on the deathly silent official road, like a bronze gong being cracked by an iron hammer.

Before anyone could recover from the shock of the auspicious omen, he had already started smiling.

"Haha..." The laughter was sharp and trembling, with a hoarse, cracked tone that sent chills down one's spine.

He laughed so hard his whole body was shaking, the tassels on his crown rattled, and his thin body, wrapped in a bright yellow dragon robe, swayed back and forth.

All eyes, from the court officials and civilians to the ten thousand personal guards behind Su Mingyue, turned from the night sky where the phoenix had disappeared to the young emperor who couldn't stop laughing.

"The Divine Phoenix descends... Destiny has decreed it!"

Emperor Yongchang opened his arms, took a step forward from the welcoming platform, and raised his voice high and shrill.

It was as if he was squeezing all the resentment and unwillingness that had been building up in his chest over the past few days into this roar.

"This is the will of Heaven! Mingyue, it's as if Heaven knows my harem lacks a queen who can rule the world, and Heaven is bestowing a marriage upon us! Haha..."

Laughter still echoed in the night breeze, but the air along the entire official road seemed to have frozen.

The people kneeling on the ground outside looked at each other in bewilderment, some with their mouths agape.

Some people whispered to the people next to them while others craned their necks to look at the reception platform.

The shouts of "Young Marshal" gradually subsided.

They witnessed the appearance of the Divine Phoenix with their own eyes; that enormous fire phoenix flew around the young marshal's head once—it couldn't be faked.

But His Majesty said it was a marriage ordained by Heaven, which seemed to make some sense.

Throughout history, aren't the empresses who ruled the world like phoenixes?

Could it be that this phoenix was truly sent down by Heaven to matchmake His Majesty and the young marshal?

An old scholar stroked his beard and nodded repeatedly in the crowd, while a woman covered her mouth with her sleeve and spoke to the person next to her.

"They are indeed a handsome couple."

Some young men frowned, sensing something was wrong but unable to pinpoint what it was.

The buzzing and murmuring from the surrounding area spread outwards, like a pot of water being heated, with fine bubbles beginning to rise to the surface.

Su Mingyue stood still, not responding, her face remaining calm and composed.

The black armor gleamed coldly in the torchlight, and the silver spear behind her rested against Dongmei's hand, its tip trembling slightly.

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

The expressions of the several head maids darkened almost simultaneously.

Chunlan was expressionless, Xiahe had her eyes downcast, and Qiuju's lips were pressed into a thin line that was almost bloodless.

The four of them had been with the young lady since they were little.

He helped her change her armor on the training ground, led her horse in the snowstorm of the North, and accompanied her on Wolf Hill, bending down to grab handfuls of blood-soaked soil.

They knew better than anyone else that the young marshal in black armor before them had fought his way from Duanyun Ridge all the way to Anyang City.

She wasn't a puppet emperor confined in a palace who could be brought back into her cage with just the words "bestowed marriage."

But they were also genuinely worried for the young lady.

If you agree, you'll fall into their trap.

If you don't agree, it means you have no respect for the emperor, that your achievements are too great and that you are arrogant and domineering.

It's true that Su Mingyue commands an army of millions, but the hardest thing to silence is public opinion.

Emperor Yongchang's move was undeniably vicious. He wasn't proposing marriage; he was setting a trap, intending to put Su Mingyue to the test of justice.

Just as everyone was stunned and the room fell silent, Emperor Yongchang spoke again.

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

Ping Tian Guan stopped shaking, his throat stopped trembling, and his voice became loud and resolute, as if he had firmly grasped the entire situation in his hands.

"I wish to marry Su Mingyue, bestow upon her the title of Empress, and hold the wedding on a chosen date. I will immediately draft an edict to announce this to the world. What do you all think, my beloved ministers?"

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

He cursed that son of a bitch eight hundred times in his heart.

Damn it, I racked my brains and stayed up most of the night, squatting in the cave and sewing a fire phoenix stitch by stitch.

This was a stage prepared for Su Mingyue, how did you manage to ruin it?

You shamelessly use this as an excuse to dream about this wonderful thing?

You, a puppet emperor whose orders cannot even leave the palace gates, are you worthy of marrying Su Mingyue?

The more I think about it, the angrier I get.

Zhou Ming slowly slipped his hand into the wide sleeve of his robe, and with a flick of his fingertips, he silently formed a hand seal.

Heavenly Thunder Spell.

He studied the thunder magic in the Wuying Hall for several days before mastering it.

A single-target lightning spell has very little power, but its impact is enormous.

The most amazing thing is that it doesn't need to be shot from the fingertips. As long as the divine sense locks onto the target, the lightning will strike down from directly above the target's head.

Everyone was looking at Emperor Yongchang. No one noticed that Zhou Ming's lips moved silently, uttering a few words.

The night sky was clear and cloudless, with only a few sparse, cold stars hanging in the depths of the heavens.

Then, without warning, a thunderbolt appeared out of nowhere directly above the welcoming platform.

It didn't come down from the clouds.

The purple-gold lightning struck down from nowhere in the night sky without warning.

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

The brocade on the canopy was instantly burned with a fist-sized scorch hole, and the wooden umbrella ribs snapped in two with a crack. Half of the umbrella handle, along with a piece of charred cloth, fell at Emperor Yongchang's feet.

Thunder roared low in the sky, muffled and short, the sound waves rolling over everyone's heads. Several senior officials in the front row were so startled that their eardrums rang and they fell to the ground with a thud.

Some of the people outside held the child's head, while others instinctively buried their heads deeper into the mud.

Tens of thousands of people on the official road outside Yongning City fell silent at the sound of this thunderclap.

It wasn't that I was brewing something; I was genuinely terrified.

The moon was bright and the stars were few, and the sky was cloudless. Suddenly, a bolt of lightning struck the emperor on the head, just as he had announced his intention to marry the young marshal.

If this isn't divine punishment, then what is?

Before the welcoming platform, Emperor Yongchang slumped to the ground, his face as pale as a sheet of Xuan paper just pulled from the water.

His crown was askew, leaning to his ear; a string of beads broke off, and the beads rolled all over the ground.

His mouth was still open, but no sound came out of his throat.

His lips moved several times as if he was trying to say something, but no sound came out; only his teeth kept chattering up and down.

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

The dark water stains continued to spread visibly downwards, and pale yellow liquid seeped out of the boots, spreading across a small patch on the ground of the ventilation platform.

The people on the outskirts were the first to come to their senses.

Some of the braver ones got up from the ground and looked at the welcoming platform by the light of the torches. They saw His Majesty lying on the ground, his trousers were soaked, and his legs were still shaking.

"His Majesty has been struck by lightning!"

"His Majesty was struck by lightning the moment he finished bestowing the marriage!"

"Divine punishment! That's divine punishment!"

The local residents began to discuss it amongst themselves.

Some people were even whispering, "This is God slapping us in the face."

Zhou Ming stepped out from the ranks of officials, his face solemn and sorrowful, his hands clasped together and raised high, his voice deep and steady:

"Your Majesty, this is absolutely unacceptable! Thunder has struck on such a clear day!"

"This is a warning from Heaven. Your Majesty, please reconsider."

Zhou Ming's tone conveyed a profound sense of sorrow perfectly.

It was as if he wasn't kicking someone when they're down, but genuinely worried about His Majesty's safety.

"I implore Your Majesty to reconsider." Chen Langzhong, who was standing in front of Zhou Ming, stepped forward, cupped his hands, and said loudly.

Then came the second, the third, the fourth... one after another, the civil and military officials stepped forward, clasped their hands in greeting, their movements so synchronized that it was as if they had rehearsed in the Hall of Supreme Harmony.

"We humbly request Your Majesty to rescind your decree..."

The voices of dozens of people merged into a deep, resonant sound that echoed across the empty official road.