Chapter Sixty-Three: The Dragon’s Corpse

"Xiao Qing, are you alright?"
After the steward left, Yang Ye gazed at Long Xiaoqing, whose body was covered in fractures, and asked with a frown.
Long Xiaoqing smiled, "Don't worry, husband, I haven't been harmed."
With that, she closed her eyes, and the cracks across her body began to heal at a remarkable speed.
She was channeling her own energy, seeking to merge the fissures in her wooden flesh.
Yet, after a moment, when Long Xiaoqing opened her eyes and withdrew her energy, the cracks reappeared.
Looking at her once smooth and beautiful form, now etched with countless fine lines, she shook her head helplessly.
Clearly, the monster's punch earlier had dealt irreparable damage to her wooden body.
It seemed that once this matter was settled, she would need to carve another body from the wood of flesh.
"Xiao Qing, can this body still be used?" Yang Ye asked through divine sense.
Long Xiaoqing nodded, "Rest assured, husband! Against cultivators at the star realm, it's more than enough. But now, I really do look ugly!"
Yang Ye laughed, "You're not ugly in the least. The cracks on your body look like runes, giving you a certain enchanting charm!"
Long Xiaoqing blushed at his words.
Seeing the look in her eyes, Yang Ye knew she had let her mind wander again.
She wasn't injured at all!
Then what were those cracks for?
Zhou Hun, Mao Li, and the others stared at Long Xiaoqing, amazed and curious about her fractured appearance.
Yang Ye turned, glanced at the imperial palace of Fusang, and waved his hand, "Let's move!"
...
When Yang Ye led his people to the palace gates, he found more than a thousand gathered there.
Among them, over eighty were at the star realm, and hundreds at the planetary realm.
The Emperor of Nine Sources, clad in white robes, knelt at the gate, a samurai sword with jeweled hilt and sheath resting across his thighs.
Behind him knelt a crowd of women and children.
"What does this mean?"
Yang Ye signaled his fierce subordinates to halt, asking coolly with a furrowed brow.
Mao Li whispered, "Inspector Ye, the Fusang folks seem to be surrendering."
"Surrender?" The corner of Yang Ye's mouth curled coldly. "Not so easily!"
With that, he strode toward the Emperor of Nine Sources.
Yang Ye knew this man well; he was quite a celebrity, with many photos circulating online.
When Yang Ye stopped before him, the emperor expressionlessly raised the samurai sword above his head with both hands.
Yang Ye took the sword.
A metallic ring sounded as Yang Ye drew the blade, and placed it against the emperor's neck.
"Idiot!"
---

An old man shouted, leaping out with furious eyes fixed on Yang Ye.
The Emperor of Nine Sources turned and silenced him with a glance.
"You're as weak as a chicken; killing you holds no interest."
Yang Ye said indifferently, sheathing the sword.
Though the emperor ruled Fusang and commanded authority, he was only a cultivator at the early planetary realm. In Yang Ye's eyes, he was indeed as weak as a chicken.
Yang Ye looked behind the emperor.
The emperor had one empress, nine concubines, and more than ten children.
All knelt behind him, trembling and lowering their heads in terror under Yang Ye's gaze.
"This simple surrender ceremony won't do,"
Yang Ye withdrew his gaze and stared at the emperor's emotionless face.
"What do you want?"
The emperor frowned and asked.
Yang Ye smiled, "Hand over the mastermind behind the extermination plot, and compensate me for spiritual damages."
"That's impossible!"
Before Yang Ye finished, the old man who had spoken earlier pointed at him and shouted again.
Before he could finish, Long Xiaoqing flashed forward, landing a whip-like kick on him.
With a dull thud, the old man was sent flying, crashing hard against the stone palace wall.
The wall collapsed, burying him beneath.
Stone exploded; the old man, hair disheveled, staggered to his feet, then spat a mouthful of blood, stiffened, and fell dead.
He was a late-stage star realm cultivator, killed by Long Xiaoqing with a single kick!
Long Xiaoqing unleashed her strongest power, using the attack to vent her frustration after being struck by the monster.
The Fusang cultivators were wide-eyed at the display, shocked by Long Xiaoqing's power—more formidable than expected.
Yang Ye looked down at the emperor and smiled, "Now, Your Majesty, you can agree to my terms, can't you? In truth, after the Hundred-Man Squad, I hadn't planned to pay my respects here. But you simply wouldn't give up! If you were in my place, would you let it go?"
"If I agree, what will you do?"
The emperor paused, asking with a blank face.
Shame and fury filled his heart, and maintaining composure was a feat.
At the palace gates, aside from the thousand cultivators, crowds of civilians watched nearby.
Some held up their phones, recording everything.
"Agree to my terms, and when this is over, I'll withdraw at once. As long as Fusang doesn't provoke me again, I have no interest in this godforsaken place."
---

"Alright!"
Yang Ye finished speaking, and the Emperor of Nine Sources gritted his teeth in agreement.
"Your Majesty!"
At his words, over twenty star realm cultivators knelt in the crowd, crying out in sorrow.
Yang Ye glanced at Zhou Hun.
Zhou Hun waved his hand, and his men dragged twenty-five star realm cultivators from the crowd.
None resisted.
With swift strokes, Zhou Hun and his men beheaded all twenty-five.
Next, Yang Ye waved his hand, and more than two hundred subordinates rushed into the palace.
Long Xiaoqing, who loved beautiful ornaments, eagerly ran in as well.
At this moment, all the Fusang people knelt deeply, heads bowed.
Such was their way: when weaker than you, they treat you as livestock to be abused; when overpowered, they regard themselves as livestock, obedient to the extreme.
Over an hour later, Zhou Hun and his men carried out large wooden chests, faces flushed with excitement.
There were more than thirty chests in total.
Without opening them, Yang Ye sensed they were full of beast cores.
This was Fusang's accumulation over a century!
Yang Ye wondered why they hadn't used these cores to nurture talent, instead locking them away in the palace vaults.
"Husband, come quickly! Hurry!"
Suddenly, Long Xiaoqing's voice rang in Yang Ye's mind, full of excitement.
Yang Ye scanned the emperor and others, then strode into the palace.
Even as Yang Ye left, the crowd remained bowed.
They would only raise their heads once he and his group departed.
Yang Ye soon arrived at Long Xiaoqing's location.
It was a spacious stone chamber, dozens of meters below the palace.
As he entered, Yang Ye's eyes widened in astonishment.
Coiled within the chamber was a... dragon!
A dragon corpse, several dozen meters long, lay curled like a serpent, its head raised. Its body was shriveled, most of its scales stripped, one horn sawn off, both eyes gouged out—its appearance was tragic beyond words.