Princess Myra Vance is not only exceptionally powerful and talented in military strategy—her personal charisma is also formidable. Most of the experts who have gathered under her banner were recruited directly by her, rather than simply attracted by her status.
Besides that, Princess Myra has a particular fondness for handsome men. Although she is already over fifty and has never married, there are rumors that she has repeatedly invited attractive men to spend the night at her residence.
The most long-standing of these beautiful men stayed at her residence for a full month.
At this point, Gavin Ward deliberately glanced at the younger, good-looking members of the Ward Clan.
Noticing the meaning in his gaze, Ian Song quickly realized what was going on—the Ward Clan was planning to curry favor by presenting handsome men to Princess Myra.
Still, after hearing about Princess Myra’s exploits, he couldn’t help but admire her. In this world, it’s still a patriarchal society—men can have multiple wives, but women are expected to stay with one partner for life.
For her to openly play with pretty boys as a princess takes real courage. She must face far more pressure than ordinary people.
The discussion in the main hall continued, and the atmosphere was especially lively.
Ian Song summarized the suggestions from the group. There were three main points: first, the Ward Clan would send people to invite Princess Myra to visit True-Dragon City; second, they’d cater to her tastes by presenting handsome young men; third, they’d offer precious treasures.
After another quarter of an hour, the Ward Patriarch saw that the discussion was nearly finished. He raised his hand, and the hall immediately fell silent.
The Ward Patriarch spoke up: "Princess Myra's first stop will be the front-line battlefield, and she is expected to arrive in ten days!"
"Patriarch, I suggest we immediately send people to the battlefield!"
A senior member chimed in.
The hall soon descended into chaos again, as various high-ranking members began recommending candidates to go, with more than a few shamelessly volunteering themselves. After all, Princess Myra's status was too high—if they could curry favor, their standing in the Ward Clan would skyrocket. No one wanted to miss this opportunity.
"Enough!"
The Ward Patriarch spoke again: "This time, Elder Shan and Elder Ming will lead the team. As for others, besides Victor Ward, Gavin Ward, and Ian Song, you may select twenty more people to join. That's all for today; everyone is dismissed!"
The meeting ended.
Just as Ian was about to leave, he was surrounded by several Ward Clan seniors, all very enthusiastic. Many wore fawning expressions. Victor and Gavin received the same treatment, with even more people crowding around them.
Although Victor had lost to Ian before, now that Victor was a late Saint Sea cultivator—and could transform into the Fire Qilin with strength rivaling a Demigod—most believed that if they fought again, Ian, who was only late Law-Phase, might not be Victor's match.
"Ian Song, the Patriarch requests your presence!"
Just as Ian was wondering how to slip away, a young man arrived and called out.
"Sorry, everyone, the Patriarch is summoning me, so I'll take my leave!" Ian tossed out a quick excuse and slipped out of the crowd.
Soon, Ian met with the Ward Patriarch again.
"Ian Song, today I intend to pass on the Imperial Scripture to you!"
Ian quickly put on a look of delight and excitement. "Thank you, Patriarch!"
Just then, the young man who'd delivered the message arrived, holding a wooden box. At the Patriarch's signal, he handed it to Ian.
The Ward Patriarch spoke gravely, his tone unusually serious: "This is the Imperial Scripture. Go to the quiet chamber next door to comprehend it. Remember, you only have three hours. How much you can grasp depends on your own fortune!"
Led by the young man, Ian entered the quiet chamber next door.
He opened the wooden box and found a palm-sized white stone tablet inside.
The stone tablet looked extremely ordinary, with nothing special about it at all.
"Is this really the Imperial Scripture?"
Ian felt a bit puzzled and picked up the stone tablet. Instantly, he was pulled into an illusion, and a shadowy figure began to move before him.
The figure's movements were lightning-fast, almost dizzying.
Ian quickly calmed himself and watched carefully. With closer observation, he realized the figure was performing a martial technique—every movement carried a unique rhythm, perfectly harmonized with the world.
For a while, Ian was completely absorbed in the figure's motions.
But soon, his brow furrowed—the figure's movements had changed. They looked almost the same as before, yet somehow different.
Ian studied the new movements closely and found they still perfectly matched the world's rhythm.
Not long after, the figure's movements changed again.
As time went on, the figure kept changing. By the end, the movements were nothing like the start, yet Ian couldn't shake the strange feeling that they were all the same at their core.
Suddenly, inspiration struck him—he seemed to understand: "It's not about the form... it's about the intent!"
So he stopped focusing on the changing movements and instead tried to sense the intent behind the figure's actions.
The Imperial Scripture was precious because it couldn't be recorded in words—language simply couldn't capture its mysteries.
Moreover, even if two people learned the same Imperial Scripture, their understanding and the techniques they developed would be completely different.
Time flew by.
Ian had completely stopped paying attention to the figure's movements, immersing himself in that unique intent. His body began to move along with it—sometimes fast, sometimes slow; sometimes powerful, sometimes weak.
Finally, three hours passed.
Ian was abruptly ejected from the illusion. The young man reappeared and took back the Imperial Scripture.
"The Patriarch says you may continue to reflect here."
With those words, the young man drifted away.
Ian ignored him and sat down cross-legged, carefully savoring everything he'd seen in those three hours.
In the neighboring palace.
The Ward Patriarch was playing chess with Wang Tianlong.
"Patriarch, how much do you think Ian Song will comprehend?" Wang Tianlong asked.
The Ward Patriarch smiled. "With just three hours, whatever he grasps—even a little—is already good. This also fulfills our clan's promise to him!"
Wang Tianlong nodded in agreement. "True. Victor Ward watched the Imperial Scripture over a hundred times and spent more than ten years before he created his own version!"
"Enough, focus on the game!" the Patriarch said sternly. Wang Tianlong immediately straightened up, not daring to say another word.
Inside the quiet chamber.
An hour passed.
Two hours passed.
Three hours passed.
After five hours, Ian finally walked out of the chamber with a satisfied smile. He'd used those five hours to create the rough outline of his own Imperial Scripture based on that intent, and named it the 'Killer's Scripture.'
That night.
Ian entered the Divine Temple again, using the thousandfold time acceleration to refine the 'Killer's Scripture.'
He kept deducing and experimenting.
Ian was so absorbed in perfecting the 'Killer's Scripture' that he completely lost track of time.
When he finally woke up, he realized three years had passed inside the Divine Temple.
His 'Killer's Scripture' was now fully refined and ready to be cultivated.