In the heart of the imperial palace, Emperor Chen Ming sat alone upon his massive dragon throne, or so it appeared to any who might glimpse into the grand hall. His face was twisted with barely contained fury, fingers gripping the ornate armrests until his knuckles whitened. The news of General Autumn's reckless charge into the kingdom had shattered years of careful planning, schemes that had been layered as delicately as silk sheets, now torn asunder by one impulsive action.
The vast chamber, with its towering columns and gilded decorations, seemed to amplify the emperor's agitated breathing. Not only were his plans in ruins, but he was also about to lose a general – something that had taken years of careful cultivation and immense resources to create. The thought alone made his temples throb with frustration.
Taking a deep breath to center himself, Emperor Chen Ming's voice echoed through the empty hall. "What are his chances of surviving?"
