As the coronation day drew near, the atmosphere in the Capital City grew increasingly vibrant. Tourists from across the empire nearly overwhelmed this bustling metropolis, their regional accents blending into a cacophony of official dialect that created the illusion of stepping into a grand, chaotic marketplace.

  Shopkeepers and street vendors grinned widely as they closed up at night, and prostitutes were busier than ever—the surge in visitors brought a surge in spending, with many businesses earning a year’s profit in just this one month.

  A luxurious carriage raced along the imperial road, the clatter of its wheels on the slightly uneven stone pavement causing pedestrians to scramble out of the way in alarm. Those who had never been to the Capital didn’t understand how insignificant local officials were; in the provinces, tax collectors who threw their weight around might be seen as powerful, but here, the unassuming person walking toward you could easily be a high-ranking official from some ministry or a noble heir bored enough to wander the streets and watch the crowds.

  The golden family crest shimmered against the black lacquered surface of the carriage as Blair drove steadily, maintaining the dignity expected of noble travel while carefully avoiding pedestrians. After over ten days of traveling by both water and land, they finally returned to the Capital on the last two days of February.

  Staring through the crystal window at the bustling, noisy city outside, Arno let out a deep sigh.I’m back again.

  The last time he had left here, he had observed from the perspective of an outsider as "Arno" was killed. This time, he was returning as himself—a complicated situation, but in essence, it was simple: one body, two souls, disappearance and replacement.

  Celeste pressed her forehead against Arno’s chin, also gazing at the lively streets outside. Her large eyes were filled with longing. This place was so different from Millin City and Pramisburg—crowded streets, bustling shops, and endless streams of people made the little girl so excited she could barely contain her joy.

  After months of living together, she was no longer afraid of Arno; she had come to know his everyday kindness. As long as her requests were polite and reasonable, he always fulfilled her small wishes.

  She clung tightly to Arno’s arm, her soft body warm and yielding. Arno slightly moved his head, switching places with Celeste. "How is it? More interesting than Millin City, right?"

  The little girl nodded repeatedly, her eyes fixed on the window. "Yes! It’s so lively, and this city is so huge—we still haven’t reached the end of it!"

  Arno couldn’t help but laugh. Of course it was huge; this was the heart of the Orlando Empire, the absolute stage for politics and wealth. The four main avenues—north, south, east, and west—had been continuously expanded outward, now reaching the Copper Ring District. It was said that the Oak Ring District was also being planned, with construction set to begin in at most three to five years. By then, the Capital might truly become one of the largest cities on the continent.

  Was Pramisburg’s population of 270,000 large? Here, it was less than the population of two or three districts combined. The Capital was estimated to have over seven million residents, roughly equivalent to twenty-six times the population of Pramisburg. The thought was staggering—this was not an information-driven society. Managing such a population required a bureaucracy of tens of thousands, almost the size of a small town.

  The carriage quickly passed through another city wall and entered the Gold Ring District. The Gold Ring District was the oldest part of the Capital, where only the wealthy and noble lived: over 60% were nobles, 30% were part of the privileged class, and a small number were wealthy merchants. Before the reign of Orlando V, many commoners had lived here, but after the royal family won the civil war and began centralizing power, the commoners sold their homes at high prices and moved to the Silver Ring District.

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  This had made many people rich, including the world’s first property speculators. They used the tens of thousands of gold coins from selling their Gold Ring homes to buy large numbers of properties in the Silver Ring District, then sold those at high prices when the Copper Ring District began development, using the profits to buy land in the Copper Ring. Now these speculators had their eyes on the Oak Ring District, allegedly monopolizing nearly half of the undeveloped land through various means.

  The carriage traveled unhindered. Any soldiers who considered stopping this fast-moving carriage fell silent at the sight of the family crest, standing aside to bow and watch it pass. In the entire empire, only eight families used black and gold as their crest—whether the most powerful like the royal family or the most declining like House Goldthorn, they were not to be disrespected by low-ranking soldiers.

  At the end of the road, magnificent buildings over ten meters tall stood like giants, their stately towers flying black banners and displaying various golden family crests that swayed in the breeze.

  As Celeste gazed in awe, the carriage slowly slowed, stopping outside one of these buildings to the astonished looks of passersby.

  The enormous, stately black iron gates opened slowly, and an old steward in a tailcoat ran out of the manor, forgetting all sense of dignity and etiquette in his excitement. He rushed to the carriage, his lips trembling and eyes red-rimmed. Glancing at the grinning Blair, he nervously pulled open the carriage door and bowed, choking up. "Young Master, you’ve finally returned!"

  A foot stepped out of the carriage, landing firmly on the ground. Sunlight poured down like a spotlight on the carriage door. Arno, dressed in dark red formal attire, extended a hand to steady himself as he stepped out. Looking at the overwhelmed old steward, he patted his arm. "Ogles, you’ve worked hard while I was away."

  The old steward laughed through his tears, shaking his head. "You’ve had it harder traveling, Young Master. No doubt you’ve suffered much! That good-for-nothing Blair doesn’t know how to take care of anyone. If I hadn’t needed to watch over the estate, I would have gone with you to the provinces."

  After Arno’s father died and under Orlando VI’s wrath, House Goldthorn had inevitably declined. The sole heir was exiled, and friends and allies avoided the family like the plague, turning the once-bustling manor into a desolate place. To avoid unnecessary complications, Arno had dismissed almost all the servants, keeping only Ogles, the old steward who doted on him blindly, and the carefree Blair.

  After his exile, Ogles, who had watched Arno grow up, was left in the Capital to look after the manor. The estate was too large to neglect, and Arno knew he would return; he didn’t want to find it in ruins. He also didn’t want Ogles to notice his changes, so leaving the old steward behind provided a natural explanation for any differences—after all, anyone would change after such experiences.

  Celeste poked her head out next. Ogles wiped his tears and bowed slightly. "You must be Lady Celeste. I am Ogles, steward of House Goldthorn. Welcome to our home."

  Celeste’s face flushed bright red, her hands fidgeting awkwardly as she stumbled over her words, clutching Arno’s arm tightly. Born into a merchant family, she knew that even her grandfather, a legendary merchant, would be regarded as no different from a street beggar by these high nobles. Ogles, though a steward, carried more weight and influence than many minor nobles, making her flustered by his deference.

  Arno stroked Celeste’s smooth flaxen hair. "Grandfather Ogles is like a grandfather to me. You must respect him, understand?" Celeste nodded rapidly. Arno adjusted his clothing, and as he stepped forward, his entire demeanor shifted, radiating authority. "Tell me what’s happened recently. Pramisburg is so remote, I couldn’t even buy a few Tiberium crystals."

  Sensing the imposing aura now emanating from Arno, Ogles felt both shocked and relieved. This was the Sacred Bloodline at last—the child he had always seen as never growing up had finally matured into a clan leader.

  The old man glanced around, and several nearby nobles gasped, cowed by the sudden intensity of his presence, and quickly looked away and moved on.

  Following Arno, Ogles began to recount recent events in the Capital.

  Orlando VI had suddenly collapsed before winter due to a royal scandal, waking up half-paralyzed with a twisted face, forcing the crown prince to take over governance. This incident led to the secret execution of a prince and a princess, their bodies thrown into the wilderness. Arno knew without asking what scandal could cause a thirty-year reigning emperor to suffer a stroke: incest. No wonder the old emperor had seemed hale and hearty when Arno left, only to be unable to attend court months later.

  It made sense—such a scandal would be a tragedy in any common family, let alone the royal family under national scrutiny. The secret hadn’t leaked not because of excellent secrecy, but because the royal family had killed enough people to ensure only a few knew the truth, with the rest sent to meet the Light God.