Today, the capital was welcoming only one person, Braydon Neal, the Northern King. As such, no other people could walk the same path he treaded.
Braydon continued on his way, and no one dared to target him.
After all, that scene had shocked the other eight kings.
In front of tens of millions of people, he killed a king without alerting anyone.
His strength was above normal kings.
If they provoked the Northern King again, they would be courting death.
At the end of the red carpet stood an old man in a suit. He was over ninety years old and had white hair and a youthful face. He led nearly a hundred people, all of whom were from the older generation, and stood on the stone steps waiting.
"Northern King!"
The old man in the suit cupped his hands and bowed.
