The Emperor’s Angel of Death

"Where is this?"

This book is first released on the entire network by 𝚝𝕨𝕜𝕒𝕟.𝕔𝕠𝕞.

The moment he pushed open the door, Sochoyan's sight was deeply attracted by this room.

This is a room full of exotic atmosphere. Entering the door is first a hall, with thick tapestries and carpets adorning every corner of the hall. The red-toned objects and decorations create a warm atmosphere, especially the fireplace by the wall, which looks particularly exquisite. Next to it is a crystal phoenix lying statue, and some small and exquisite decorations are hung on the lamps.

There are no benches in the room, only a protruding platform, matched with two square tables and one after another colorful, rich, and quaint cushions, warm red, comfortable space, exquisite and delicate objects, setting off a romantic and poetic atmosphere.

At the same time, there are no doors around it, only carved door frames and white curtains.

Sochoyan walked in cautiously, as if worried about disturbing someone who was asleep.

After a few seconds, he suddenly realized one thing, that everything here was actually surprisingly large, so large that he didn't even feel strange, including those cast bronze hand-carved cans inlaid with red coral and typical ornaments.

When he looked up at the ceiling, he saw many black and white mosaics forming a painting. This decoration is dignified and unrestrained, restrained and smooth, forming a contrast between the main and the secondary, the refined and the rough with the pure colorful handmade carpets in the entire space.

But in the Empire, it is definitely a heterodox, not even the mainstream aesthetic style of the current Empire.

In the main room, there is also a brown sofa, with a reddish-brown solid wood cabinet on each side. The cabinet on the right has a communicator made in the shape of a beast. The coffee table in front retains a certain old-fashioned retro taste. The white coffee table is surrounded by the sofa in the middle, and a carpet with a letter pattern and personalized fashion is laid under it. Next to it is the balcony, but the window is closed. The balcony and the living room are separated by curtains. The curtains are light blue, with a layer of gauze, simple and comfortable, not complicated. The sofa background wall uses a warm color, bringing a touch of warmth.

Standing in the center of the living room, Sochoyan looked towards the largest curtain, which should be the bedroom.

He could vaguely see a huge bed platform occupying almost half of the room, a wide red silk bed inlaid on a long-haired carpet covered with yellow detail patterns, the head of the bed decorated with warhorses and lions, adding a touch of wildness to the entire room.

Then Sochoyan turned his gaze to the left. Through the curtain, he saw a small tea room located in it. There was not much decoration here, but it was more elegant. A large number of purple-red ornaments set off the yellow and white walls, shining in the sunlight diffused from the doors and windows, like gentle moonlight. There were also many wind chimes hanging in the tea room. While the curtains were gently blowing, they made a crisp and melodious sound of bells chasing each other, creating a determined and quiet atmosphere.

Under the wind chimes is the tea table placed on the carpet, surrounded by soft cushions of various colors, and on the table are simple tea cups and teapots.

At this time, Sochoyan suddenly felt a little overwhelmed. If he guessed correctly, this should be Xerxes' room in the past, but why would there be his room in the Imperial Palace?

Although as a Primarch, the Empire's prince, it is reasonable to have a room in the Imperial Palace, all traces of him should have been erased.

And what is the existence that led him here trying to do?

He didn't know if he should rummage through the boxes and cabinets, which seemed very rude, after all, this was someone else's room, and even more so, a Primarch's room.

But there may also be some information about the Primarch and the Grey Marrow here, or diaries or records, which are often concentrated in one place—

Sochoyan looked to the right, where the study was, a room full of poetry and philosophy, with a huge desk and bookcase, and perhaps the only chair in the room. There were also huge potted plants placed under the window. What was even more concerning was that those potted plants were still verdant, and even the small incense burner on the desk was still emitting wisps of green smoke.

After thinking it over and over again, Sochoyan walked over and gently lifted the curtain. A more spacious space suddenly appeared in his sight. This place seemed to be a collection of many art spaces such as libraries, studios, and music rooms. In addition to art equipment such as bookshelves, easels, and music stands, there were also many display shelves, which were filled with various rare and exotic artworks that Sochoyan did not recognize, including porcelain, pottery, jade, and metal utensils.

However, what really attracted his attention was not these, but a small figure standing in front of an easel covered by a gray cloth, wearing a short linen robe that was almost primitive, with bare arms and feet showing a wheat color, and even no shoes on his feet. It looked like a five or six-year-old boy.

"You are—"

At the same time as Sochoyan spoke, the other party turned around, surprisingly a boy with thick eyebrows, big eyes, a high nose bridge, and slightly curly black hair.

"You've come, Sochoyan Aleksey."

The other party was so small that in this space where all the furnishings and furniture were very large, it was like a child entering the land of giants in a fairy tale.

But the other party didn't seem flustered at all, and there wasn't even a hint of childishness on his face.

Facing this child, Sochoyan didn't feel a bit of strength, a bit of pressure, a bit of strangeness, as if this was just an ordinary human child, but intuition and reason told him that the other party would never be "ordinary". Obviously, this was the person who brought him here.

And in this Imperial Palace, how many people would have this ability?

How many people would know this place?

Sochoyan took a deep breath, then took a step back, knelt on one knee, and lowered his head.

"To see the sacred face is my honor for three lifetimes, the great Master of Mankind."

With his head lowered, Sochoyan could feel the other party walking past him, and then the voice came from the side.

"Their Phoenix King bows down to humans, the pointy-eared ones will be anxious to jump their feet if they know."

Sochoyan pursed his lips, not knowing how to answer.

"Get up, I am not the person you are talking about."

Hearing this, Sochoyan slowly stood up, but found that the other party did not know when he sat on that huge chair, with his hands on his knees, like a doll against the backdrop of the huge furniture.

He thought for a while, then whispered:

"Your words are very similar to the words of the Deceiver."

"Because it is the truth."

"Then what should I call you?"

"Me? I am called Ren."

"Ren"

"If you don't feel comfortable with this, then you can call me Fan."

"Fan"

Sochoyan thought about the relationship between Fan and the Deceiver. He felt that he had vaguely touched on what happened to the Emperor, but he was not sure.

Then, he decided to say it directly.

"Fan Emperor, what happened to him?"

Hearing this, a smile appeared on the other party's mature face.

"What could have happened to him? Sitting on the throne of pain, using his own power to seal the failed webway entrance, to prevent Terra from becoming the second Eye of Terror, don't you already know?"