Chapter 93: This Is the Small Gate to the Golden Throne

"Here is the Thirteenth District—the domain of the Daughter of Death."

Reina’s expression twitched slightly as she stared at the scene before her.

The Thirteenth District was utterly unlike the other Lower Nest districts.

It exuded an emptiness and silence, as if no one walked its streets; the ground was immaculately clean, not a single stain in sight, save for the occasional cold wind that swept through, carrying with it waves of pale, corpse-like stench.

The outer walls of surrounding buildings were a lifeless gray-white, yet streaked with bloodstains that sent chills down the spine.

These stains had hardened into deep brown hues, forming bizarre, irregular shapes.

If one looked closely, one could discern patterns of skulls, eagles, corpses, thrones, fallen angels, and more.

Reina couldn’t help but trace the bloodstains upward.

The streets were indeed spotless, devoid of any living soul.

Yet hanging from them were countless bodies.

From elevated ledges of buildings along the streets, metal rods extended outward, each bearing a noose.

On every rope hung a pale, fleshless skull.

Their necks rested within the ropes, their white, symbolically pure skulls facing Zhou Yun and Reina.

These white bones were packed tightly together, layer upon layer, like clouds of pallor.

Occasionally, fresh skulls dripped blood, falling like raindrops.

Reina’s expression was a spectacle.

Beside her, Zhou Yun involuntarily drew a deep breath.

He closed his eyes as if entranced, letting his flesh absorb the surrounding atmosphere.

Then Reina heard Zhou Yun murmur, clearly content.

"What a wonderful place."

Reina looked at him as if he were an Aetheric Demon, her face filled with horror as she quickly stepped back.

Zhou Yun noticed her terrified expression and shrugged.

It wasn’t his fault.

The moment he entered the Thirteenth District, seeing the grim white bones hanging overhead and sensing the city’s overwhelming deathly aura, he felt inexplicably at ease.

As if the accumulated death of countless years was pleasing him, nourishing him, making him stronger.

The blessing dormant within Zhou Yun’s body seemed to grow even more active.

Zhou Yun’s throat moved involuntarily.

To Reina, it looked as if he were swallowing the surrounding death itself.

"Y-you okay?" Reina asked tentatively.

"Fine," Zhou Yun replied, gazing at her with sincerity, his voice as flat as death: "Don’t you find it peaceful here? No disturbances, everything silent—it’s incredibly comfortable."

Zhou Yun truly meant it, and he knew this was almost certainly the result of the Yellow Pelt’s blessing.

But the comfort was real—the noise of the Nest had vanished in an instant.

Reina swallowed hard and followed Zhou Yun, step by step, toward the distant church.

As the gray-white church gradually came into clearer view, she finally couldn’t help but whisper:

"Are you sure these people are trustworthy? They won’t hang us up too, will they?"

She pointed to the grim white bones above them.

"Don’t worry—His Imperial Majesty protects me," Zhou Yun shrugged. "Besides, this place is great."

"Quiet, serene. People here have perfect distance and calm."

Zhou Yun gestured to the pale skulls hanging on the walls.

"If they didn’t have distance, it’d be a horror story," Reina muttered, her eyelid twitching.

Suddenly, Reina froze.

She had just seen a living person!

A young man crouched by the roadside, using one hand to untie a synthetic rope.

His right arm was severed, leaving only a grotesque stump—clearly crushed by machinery.

The man spotted Zhou Yun and Reina, his eyes brightening as he hurried over.

"Sorry, I can’t untie this synthetic rope."

He waved his stump apologetically:

"One hand’s just inconvenient." Seeing they were normal people, not some strange Death-Worshipper, Reina exhaled in relief.

"Could you help me untie it?" the man asked hopefully.

Reina instinctively reached out to help.

But Zhou Yun stepped in front of her and took the rope first.

He undid it in three swift motions and handed it back to the one-armed youth.

The man, deeply grateful, took the rope and exclaimed excitedly: "Thank you, thank you—may your souls return to the Golden Throne after death."

"No thanks needed—it’s my duty," Zhou Yun smiled gently.

"A peculiar kind of gratitude," Reina muttered, her lip twitching.

Then she stared, dumbfounded, as the young man walked to the wall of a dim building.

He tossed one end of the rope into the air toward a metal rod, then tied a slipknot in the hanging portion.

With one arm, he pulled tight—the rope secured itself firmly to the rod.

Then, with one hand, he formed a noose beneath it, suspended just above head height.

The young man noticed Reina and Zhou Yun watching.

He waved at them with a gentle smile, as if greeting a friend.

!

"May my death nourish the Emperor, may my sacrifice uphold the Empire—I shall return my soul to the Golden Throne."

Then, under Reina’s stunned gaze, he leapt lightly, his neck slipping perfectly into the noose.

The synthetic rope tightened around his neck, leaving a purple mark; his face flushed crimson, his body twitching involuntarily in midair.

Moments later, his eyes rolled back—he was dead.

In Reina’s increasingly blank stare,

a woman clad in white leather, her face hidden, emerged silently from the shadows.

Her fingers slid, and a long, needle-like stiletto appeared in her hand.

Approaching the hanged man, she began meticulously peeling away his flesh, inch by inch, as if aiming to strip him down to pure bone.

Now Reina understood where the white bones came from.

"The small gate to the Golden Throne," Zhou Yun murmured, staring at the noose hanging above the dead youth.

Reina’s expression twisted further as she looked at Zhou Yun.

Zhou Yun shrugged.

He felt the man truly might have returned his soul to the Golden Throne.

For the instant the man died, Zhou Yun sensed the ambient deathly aura intensify.

He faintly felt a gaze within the pale death—slightly clearer, slightly stronger.

That was almost certainly the Emperor’s gaze. One death had truly strengthened the Emperor’s power.

Dude, you’re not gonna become the God of Death in the Aether after all humanity dies and solo some Chaos God, are you?

Zhou Yun couldn’t help muttering—the Emperor now felt too much like the Eldar God of Death.

"The Empire we sought to build, our glorious Father—how has He become this, after ten thousand years?" whispered the winged figure within the white light.

Zhou Yun was about to respond, when his eye caught a gray-leather-hooded woman silently approaching from the shadows.

"Hey," Zhou Yun waved at her.

The woman froze rigidly in place.

(End of Chapter)