Listening-Waves Courtyard, Quiet Chamber. Unlike the solemn, imposing atmosphere of the main palace, the courtyard was tranquil and serene. Yet at this moment, the master bedroom was filled with the thick scent of medicinal herbs and the heavy aura of death. The once awe-inspiring King of West Lucozia , Rufus Rhys , now lay on the bed, gaunt like a skeleton. His once-thick white hair clung sparsely to his forehead. His complexion was a morbid gray, his eyes sunken, his breath so faint it was almost imperceptible—his life’s flame on the verge of going out. His consort, Elara , sat by the bedside, gently wiping his thin hand with a warm towel. Her eyes were red and swollen, tears not yet dry. Several elderly imperial physicians stood nearby, all shaking their heads with helpless sighs. The king’s body was already like an oil lamp with no fuel—no medicine could save him. “Father! Mother!” Thorian burst into the room like a whirlwind, ignoring the dust all over him and all e...