The Dead Duke
In the forbidden area of the underground chamber, before the hidden room,
Caesar hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether to use his mental energy to probe the situation inside.
However, he quickly dismissed the idea.
Using mental energy to scan others was a highly provocative act that could easily lead to enmity.
Although he was confident that with his current strength, even a duke wouldn't pose a threat and he could easily escape, he reconsidered due to Stephanie being nearby, fearing she might get caught up in it.
So, he carried the coffin back to the library.
Stephanie chatted with him for a while longer before finally taking her leave.
Caesar stood alone in the room for a few minutes, pacing back and forth before making a decision.
Even before passing the hidden chamber, he had sensed something was off.
He had a strong premonition.
Since it concerned his future peaceful life, Caesar decided to clarify the matter.
"Ha—"
Taking a deep breath, his eyes suddenly opened and closed, the deep, dark irises igniting with a glimmer.
Buzz—
The surrounding space suddenly twisted and folded, resembling the calm surface of water rippling with waves. The environment began to "come alive," writhing, changing, and alternating.
After half a second,
everything settled down.
Caesar hadn't moved an inch, but he was no longer in the room.
He raised his head, his expression grave, looking toward the enormous stone door that was sealed tightly.
Inside was the duke ancestor of the Duke clan, meditating in seclusion.
If everything was merely Caesar overthinking, then his intrusion would surely offend a duke.
But he didn't hesitate.
Buzz—
The space folded once more!
Caesar vanished from his spot, teleporting into the hidden chamber.
As soon as he entered, a foul stench of decay assaulted his senses, making him gag.
Caesar looked up, his face shifting slightly, and he inhaled sharply.
Not far ahead, a half-rotted corpse knelt on the ground, its tattered robes hanging limply, head bowed, body withered, and hands weakly drooping.
What truly shocked Caesar, however, was the massive wings dragging behind the corpse!
Each wing stretched over twenty meters in length; one could only imagine that when ten such wings spread out simultaneously, they would blot out the sun!
Yet now, they had long lost their vitality; the flesh had rotted away, leaving only decayed remnants hanging from the stark white skeleton… drooping like weeds, reduced to a grotesque state despite their former glory.
The scene was filled with sorrow and desolation.
…
"One, two, three, four… ten! Ten holy wings."
Caesar's expression was a complex mix of emotions. "Sure enough, no wonder you haven't emerged from seclusion for tens of thousands of years; it turns out you have long since fallen."
The scene before him confirmed the suspicions in his heart.
The pinnacle of a marquis was six wings.
The blood clan corpse before him, with its ten holy wings, must have been a duke in life.
His earlier premonition was correct: the duke ancestor of the Duke clan had indeed encountered disaster!
Caesar gazed at the skeleton for a long time without speaking.
He was contemplating many things.
For instance… what was the cause of death?
It could not possibly be due to aging and the exhaustion of life, as the duke ancestors of the seven major clans all belonged to the same era, and the dukes from other families were still alive and thriving.
Nor could it have been a death at the hands of an enemy!
The power of a duke was terrifying—able to move mountains and fill seas with a mere wave of their hand, it was impossible for them to die quietly.
"Then there's only one possibility left."
Caesar's gaze grew serious. "A failed ascension to prince, resulting in backlash and death."
If a marquis fails to advance, the cost is a lifetime of being unable to break through their own realm.
However, if a duke fails to advance, they pay with their life.
The scene before Caesar rang alarm bells in his mind.
From now on, if he did not have absolute confidence in his breakthrough, he must not take such risks!
…
The reason the seven major clans were referred to as "royal families" was entirely due to their duke ancestors.
They were the strongest backing and the greatest trump card.
But now, the Duke clan's support had collapsed, and judging by the level of decay of the corpse, this duke had likely been dead for at least a thousand years.
If the outside world were to learn of this news, the Duke clan would face catastrophic disaster!
Only dukes could nurture marquises.
Similarly, only princes could nurture dukes.
All seven royal dukes were born in an era when princes still existed.
But now, there were no princes left in the world.
…
"Pardon my intrusion. If I have offended, I hope you won't mind... Rest in peace."
Caesar shook his head, a faint sigh escaping his lips.
He gently raised his hand, and suddenly a section of the ground disappeared, as if an invisible beast had taken a bite out of it, creating a deep pit.
Then, the corpse levitated and fell into the hole.
With another wave of his hand, the ground restored itself, showing no signs of change.
After burying the pitiful duke, Caesar was about to use his spatial ability to return to his room.
However, the next moment, he paused.
"Hmm?"
His gaze turned to the stone wall nearby, where it seemed some words were inscribed.
Caesar walked over and looked up.
There were two passages carved into the stone, bold and imposing—
"My name is 'Houston Duke.' I was born a count, became a marquis at a hundred, attained six wings at a thousand, and at three thousand years old, I gained the favor of the prince, receiving ten drops of blood, allowing me to step into the duke realm! Before my ten-thousandth year, I had already reached the pinnacle of ten wings! I consider myself a prodigy, blessed by the heavens, pondering that attaining the Twelve-Winged Blood Ancestor wouldn't be difficult…"
The first passage was quite normal; however, the second passage took a drastic turn in style, revealing a stark contrast filled with intense resentment, anger, madness, and hysteria—
"I hate! I hate! I hate, hate, hate!!! Why is fate so unfair to me? I secluded myself for one hundred ninety thousand years, seeking the realm of the Blood Ancestor, yearning to reach the Prince's domain, only to realize it was all a grand dream! At the moment of death, I finally discerned the truth: only those who become dukes at a hundred have the chance to advance to prince? A hundred! A hundred!!! How ridiculous?!"
"For a talent like me, it took three thousand years just to become a duke. If I couldn't achieve it, who else could, pushing a million years back or a million years forward? Who else?!!!"
…
After reading, Caesar remained silent for a full five minutes.
Finally, he twitched his lips and uttered three words: "There's still me."