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Edited by: Michyrr

Madam Mu’s eyes became incredibly deep and serene, and one had the sense that in the very bottom of the sea, a whale as massive as a mountain was slowly swimming, and this whale was just about to shake its tail and stir up a furious wave that would shock the heavens.

Suddenly, she closed her eyes. When she opened them again, they were devoid of anger, containing only a fear-inducing serenity.

It was still the bottom of the sea. Though there were no furious waves, there was a massive pressure that no ordinary person could endure.

"Back then, when I opened my eyes and saw that little white dot on those terrifying waves, I thought that it was a seagull that represented a life of freedom."

She fell quiet for a while, then continued, "Many years later, I still thought the same, even when I was exiled from the Great Western Continent by Imperial Uncle, so I didn’t feel dejected. On the contrary, this was the fulfillment of my desires, and yet it was on that very same day that I learned that the little white dot I saw all those years ago was not a seagull, but a sail.

"Zhou Dufu had come alone on a boat but returned out of boredom. It was when I learned the truth of this story that I understood that my life had never been one of freedom. The white sail symbolized coming and going, meant that we had to return to our homeland, that this was my life’s true calling."

The little Black Dragon did not understand what Madam Mu meant by these words.

Madam Mu did not continue to explain her thinking, but took her leave of this cliff.

Countless years ago, the Imperial Uncle had found an excuse to exile her from the Great Western Continent, beginning her travels on this continent. She had gotten to know many outstanding individuals and ultimately become the Empress of the Demi-human race.

Relying on her intelligence and skills, she gained the White Emperor’s trust and love, gained the Tianhai Divine Empress’s trust and friendship. However, in the momentous battle between the White Emperor and the Demon Lord on the snowy plains to the north of Mount Han in which both sides walked away heavily wounded, the long-concealed Shang Xingzhou unexpectedly appeared.

Her judgment of the situation remained correct. Without hesitation, she chose to stand at Shang Xingzhou’s side, obtaining a promise from him.

Just when the situation was gradually falling under control, and the grand undertaking of many years was on the verge of success, the Imperial Uncle who she had trusted, even idolized, since she was a child suddenly died.

The events on the plateau of Holy Maiden Peak had already reached her ears.

The Great Western Continent’s scheme had been exposed and many people were now looking towards White Emperor City, looking at her. Bie Yanghong and Wuqiong Bi might even have already arrived.

Logically speaking, she should have been very nervous, or at least somewhat discomfited. But she was not. Just like in the past, she was calm, easygoing, confident.

The white sail flapped in the wind, particularly striking in the turbid red waters.

The great ship broke through the waves, landing at the opposite shore.

She ascended the stone steps, up to the Imperial Palace at the very top.

The several thousand demi-human officers and soldiers lining the steps bowed as she ascended.

On the nearby streets, the countless demi-human commoners also kneeled on the ground, all sorts of greetings and well-wishes coming from their mouths.

When she reached the Imperial Palace, she lightly caressed her belly through her sleeves.

And then she turned around, looking down upon this metropolis of white, a confident smile on her apathetic face.

This was her city.

Even if Bie Yanghong and his wife, Chen Changsheng and the Orthodoxy’s Prefects, and Wang Po came together, they would all die.

......

......

The laws of the demi-humans were very simple, consisting of only seventeen pages.

On the first page, it was written very clearly: White Emperor City belongs to the White Emperor.

The second page gave a pretty supplement: White Emperor City also belongs to every demi-human that lives within it.

In reality, while the first page had been thoroughly enforced for innumerable years, the words on the second page continued to exist only on paper.

To the demi-human commoners, it was the glory of the Demi-human race that made them proud to live in White Emperor City, but to become the true master of White Emperor City? That existed only in the imagination, if one even dared to imagine it, which wasn’t possible unless they were already thoroughly inebriated.

Perhaps for this reason, or maybe just because of their personality, the vast majority of demi-humans liked to drink, with a particular preference for hard alcohol.

The riverside district of White Emperor City’s outer city was full of all sorts of small taverns. These taverns sold cheap but strong alcohol and terrible-tasting but incredibly expensive food. They plundered the money from the lower-class citizens and from the youths that came to sell the goods from their tribes.

Places like these were shrouded in the stench of animal hide, feet, and vomit, and naturally smelled horrific. If not for the fact that the proximity of these taverns to the river met that the health bureau could send people every day to engage in a rough washing of the streets, the smell would have been so bad that not even the tribal hunters would have been able to endure it.

A certain ordinary little tavern by the river was just as raucous as its fellow taverns, its back door just as cheerless and deserted. A small mountain of bowls and cups were piled up here, and this tavern’s only difference from its compatriots was the giant figure crouched next to this pile, washing the dishes in front of a tub.

This mountain of a man had his head lowered as he silently washed the bowls, as if the noisy world behind him had no connection with him.

The tavern’s back door creaked as it was pushed upon, and two drunk patrons staggered out. Seemingly not seeing the dishwasher, they untied their pants and began to piss. The dishwasher hurriedly moved the tub a little farther, at the same time chiding the two drunkards.

The pair finally took note of the dishwasher’s existence, one of them cursing, "Are you blind! Quickly move a little farther!"

His companion was a little less drunk. Patting him on the shoulder, he pointed at the dishwashing man and gave a whispered explanation. The cursing drunkard sobered up a little and broke into hearty laughter. "Oh my, this is the legendary bear cub?"

His companion chuckled and indicated that they should quickly finish their business and get back to drinking. His fellow drunkard gave a few taunts before taking his leave.

The dishwashing man took a large jar of water and cleaned the wall. After shaking his head, he continued to wash the dishes.

It was plain to see that he was very skilled at washing dishes. The mountain of plates in the tub danced in his seemingly clumsy hands and was swiftly cleaned. He moved the clean bowls and plates into the tavern’s rear kitchen. Just when he was prepared to clean the stove, the owner called him over. Apparently, business was too good today and it was too busy at the front, so he needed to help serve alcohol.

When he arrived in the drinking area, the raucous conversation suddenly came to a halt, and everyone’s eyes fixated on him.

The light in the tavern was rather dusky, but it was enough to see his face. Although this stalwart man had a bearded face, his eyes were bright and clean, clear evidence of his young age. When one considered the rumor that the Bear tribe were forthright and old-fashioned, this person was probably still a youth.

The sudden hush in the tavern had been caused by the arm strength exhibited by this bear youth.

Twelve pots of hard alcohol hung off his left arm like ripe fruits. They seemed very steady, not shaking in the slightest.

"He really does deserve his reputation as the most outstanding young hunter of the Bear tribe from back then. This is truly some impressive strength."

"He’s Xuanyuan Po?"

Yes, he was Xuanyuan Po.

The bear youth in this tavern by the river was Xuanyuan Po.

After five years, his simple and honest self seemed to be doing the same job.

The entire continent had cleanly forgotten the name of Xuanyuan Po by now, but to the frequent patrons of this tavern and the surrounding businesses, this was a rather famous name, as he had once gone to the capital. To the demi-human tribes, the human world was incomparably distant, and anyone who went had the right to boast.

The drunkard who had gone out back to piss laughed and said, "Isn’t he a cripple?"

With these words, many gazes fell upon Xuanyuan Po’s right arm.

Xuanyuan Po’s left arm was as thick as a tree trunk, but for some reason, his right arm was rather withered, looking like the branch of a dead tree.

The difference between the two arms was quite stark, making the overall picture all the more tragic.