The atmosphere inside the majestic central palace of White Crystal Island suddenly turned strange. All the major governors of the Mory Sector fixed their gazes on Andrew Han, an invisible pressure as deep as the sea bearing down on his body and mind. If an ordinary Void Rift-tier cultivator were present, they would likely be frightened out of their wits.
Even the mere convergence of their gazes carried a heavy sense of oppression.
Moreover, these governors had conferred repeatedly, displaying an unusual tacit understanding—as if intent on isolating Andrew Han.
"Heh."
Andrew Han exhaled, leaned back against his chair, and took a bite of the round, gray fruit on his plate.
His movements were leisurely and unhurried, showing complete indifference.
The governors knew only the honor and power of a Heaven-King, but how exalted that status truly was, how great that power, and why the Heaven-King's identity was so unique—they understood none of it.
Simply put—
They knew the fact, but not the reason behind it.
Those present were merely mid-level officials of an ancient kingdom, not part of the decision-making core. Many secrets were simply beyond their reach. For example, the profound significance of a Heaven-King to a race, or the hidden truth that only a Heaven-King might have a chance to ascend to the highest realms—such matters were far above the governor level.
If one never enters the true halls, how could they possibly understand the strength of the Human Race?
But.
Governor Hanson considered himself exceptional.
After all, he governed a full hundred thousand stellar systems, his influence spanning the sector, and no one dared openly defy him. "Your Excellency Andrew Han, your words are rather strong. May I ask what you mean by 'with our consent'? According to the relevant regulations, governors are strictly forbidden from interfering in any decisions made by inspector envoys. We governors wouldn't dare, of course."
As he spoke, a hint of displeasure appeared; Governor Hanson shook his head slightly.
The atmosphere subtly shifted. Many governors now wore solemn expressions and furrowed their brows. The previously silent, oppressive tension began to take on a more confrontational edge.
"Hmph."
Andrew Han slowly crushed the gray fruit in his hand, turning it into powder. "You wouldn't dare."
His voice was calm and powerful, like the tranquil sea that contains all waves, causing Governor Hanson's expression to stiffen.
Governor Hanson's eye twitched, his Adam's apple bobbed, and he was just about to speak.
"Governor Hanson."
Andrew Han casually scattered the powdered fruit. "I'd advise you to watch your words, lest you bring disaster upon yourself."
"Th-this, actually..." Governor Hanson's expression grew awkward as he opened his mouth, but in the end said nothing, feeling a twinge of fear.
He felt...
This Andrew Han was entirely different from any inspector envoy before him!
Ding-dong, ding-dong. Andrew Han tapped the glass lightly with his fingertip and glanced at Governor Hanson. "It's best not to meddle in things that don't concern you. Do you really need me to teach you that?"
Immediately after.
Andrew Han swept his gaze across the room. "If anyone has objections, step forward and let me see."
Andrew Han was well aware that his greatest weakness was his youth—too young, and inevitably lacking in experience. If he tried to follow the political games and rhythms of these governors, he would surely lose disastrously, perhaps without ever understanding how he lost.
When it came to scheming and mind games, he was no match for the governors.
So wouldn't it be better to keep things simple? Speak simply.
"Ahem."
Governor Hanson's face showed embarrassment, and he chose to hide it with a cough.
But this was just too simple, too direct, too blunt!
Normally, there should be a roundabout clash, gradual concessions, and both sides leaving satisfied.
"What's going on? How should we respond? This inspector envoy doesn't follow the usual logic." The governors exchanged glances in midair, communicating in the most subtle way.
They rarely tore off their masks— even when disputes arose, they would smile on the surface, leaving no flaws for others to criticize.
Language is an art, and so is star sector politics.
They were accustomed to compromise and negotiation. As time passed, the governors became ever more skilled in these ways, nearly forgetting that this starry sky was still ruled by strength. Of course, part of the reason was that they judged Andrew Han by ordinary standards, treating him as they would any inspector envoy from previous years. For example, Governor Hanson and Governor Brooke Gale, both remained silent at this moment.
Their plan was good—unfortunately, it was useless.
How can a new generation Heaven-King be measured by ordinary standards?
Where did it go wrong?
How strange.
The many governors were still completely baffled.
For a moment, the whole hall fell silent. No one spoke; each sat in their place with different thoughts. The serving maids all retreated, heads bowed, not daring to make a sound.
After a long time.
Andrew Han smiled and raised his glass. "Since no one has any objections, let's end it here for today. Dismissed."
Governor Hanson: "..."
All the governors: "..."
The style was wrong, the effect was wrong—this wasn't how things were supposed to go!
According to their earlier discussions, just a little pressure would have made Andrew Han retreat. No one expected him to be so forceful, breaking all their plans in just a few words and stepping outside every possibility they had listed.
Dismissed. Everyone go home.
Andrew Han drained his glass and seemed about to stand up.
At that moment.
Finally, someone couldn't sit still: "I have a presumptuous request—may I speak?"
"Speak." Andrew Han's expression remained calm. The inspector envoy was authorized by the Law-Enforcement Pavilion, with authority above the governors.
I've heard that the Grand Epoch Sect Zone has been chaotic lately, due to management mistakes. I deeply regret this. I only hope that if you conduct another investigation in the future, you'll notify us first. Otherwise, once you've finished and left, how are we supposed to handle the aftermath?" The man stood up and spoke with righteous conviction.
The palace was unusually quiet—so silent that even a falling thread could be heard. Most governors watched Andrew Han with unreadable expressions; only a few showed signs of agreement.
For example, Governor Hanson and Governor Brooke Gale, both remained silent at this moment.
But that didn't stop anyone from chiming in.