Chapter 94：Formation Devil

"Hum...Jiyan are my ears failing me? Did this lad just claim that he started the drought?" Harun asked, but was dissatisfied by Jiyan's nod of approval. Her following words only disturbed him further, "And now that makes sense."

"How exactly does that make sense to you?" He blinked at the words. Let's not mention why the country's monarch would want to plunge his realm into thirst, starvation and rampant anarchy. How could Mehran, who'd just now reached Nihility, cover a country of 1.6 billion in such a terrible drought? Only the joint work of 100 Celestial Kins or a Celestial Guard could complete a project of this scope. If Mehran could show the strength of a Celestial Guard at the Daoist Realm, why would he be so helpless against the three sects' encroachment? There were many simple ways to solve the problem, such as becoming a Holy Land's legacy disciple.

Jiyan, however, thought otherwise:

"Sangar said it himself. His sect's name is Immolation Blades. Anyone can do this except them, because they instantly become the primary suspects. Which leaves us with the Vermilion Brides that you control, and the Soul Refining Hall, that likely was Sangar's hidden master. And that's only assuming that Dream Seers can use Weather Spells. I don't think so, but even if they can, would the Soul Refining Hall risk the extreme reduction of lives they plan to refine? That's no different from torching their own farmland.

We have a situation that aims all suspicion at celestials and ruins the entire country. The culprit should be someone with a deep grudge against both sides. Besides Mehran, who qualifies? He probably got sick of having to protect his citizens from themselves and receive spit as a reward—then lashed out. Or perhaps he just knew that he couldn't hold on for much longer, and wanted to get something from the chaos," Jiyan reasoned, and Harun had to admit that in a world of raging lunatics, her words made sense. Yet, this still didn't explain how Mehran pulled that off.

In a flash, the pair pooled ideas, and two words surfaced: "Forbidden Formations!"

Forbidden Arts were an exhaustive collection of techniques that were as reliable as disastrous. Most of the known ones originated from the Lost Era, but a few, like the Self-Immolating Hex Nakula passed on to Sangar and who knows else, appeared alongside Nakula and the Heaven Warding Emperor. Needless to say, those originated from the Myriad Devil Palace. Spells, formations, artworks, poisons; virtually all categories carried some form of forbidden technique. If Mehran was a sixth-star Formation Master, a forbidden technique could enable him to achieve that feat. But was he?

The answer came immediately. Mehran raised his right hand, summoned a painting brush, and as he waved it in mysterious patterns, spiral shapes took form, becoming palm-sized whirlpools that flew toward the ceiling, floor, and high pillars. One whirlpool mark appeared on all surfaces, ocean-blue light columns poured out of each whirlpools, first trapping, then relocating all abdication advocates to suit Mehran's tastes. This seemingly minor trick frightened all dissidents into submission. The lucid dropped on their knees, the rest stared dazed at Mehran's brush-holding hand.

"He can use his body as an energy source and set up formations nigh-instantaneously...proof that he's a sixth-star Formation Master," Harun realized. In that instant, he didn't doubt that if the Nihility version of him fought with Mehran, unless he used an extreme poison to exceed Mehran's writing speed, the result would be his complete defeat. Talent alone couldn't help a Nihility Realm expert achieve this level. Mehran either obtained some blessing, or crossed a Formation Master's inheritance ground. Considering his average luck stat, Harun leaned on the latter.

Still sitting on his throne, Mehran made a grasping motion. The queen, dowager, crown prince and commandant all reappeared before him—their faces stretched by the feeling of having been deceived for a lifetime.

"I don't understand. Who doesn't know the worth of Formation Masters? With such abilities and talent, why did you let the matter develop into this? What did you hope to accomplish? And why the hell would you trigger an event sure to end your reign?!" The commandant snapped at Mehran, unable to control that strange mix of rage, awe and humiliation churning his bowels. With a smile, Mehran glanced at the commandant, his once preceptor, his mother, wife and son, then replied in the most casual of tones:

"Because I'm disappointed. Disappointed in you, you and you," he said in a barely audible tone, indexing the three leaders. His finger then fell onto the crown prince, who shook uncontrollably, like a feather amidst a storm, and dared not speak up. "Only you are not qualified to disappoint me. For that, we'd need to owe each other something," Mehran added, then slapped his throne's arm. A tablet rose from the ground, with flaming-red patterns glittering on its surface. Seeing it, 99% grew confused. The queen, dowager and commandant, however, turned livid.

"The...Lineage Tablet," the crown prince muttered, confused by the tablet's appearance. Ignoring him, Mehran stepped toward his officials and nobles: "As I've said beforehand, I do not mind abdicating. There's just one tiny detail I need to remind you of. Only someone of the Hisyar bloodline can inherit the throne. So unless you plan to change the dynasty, we have another problem—" Mehran paused, gashed the Crown Prince's palm, and slammed it against the tablet—its light vanished instantly, "After all, the crown prince isn't my son. Problematic...right?" Mehran rhetorically asked and hurled the prince across the room.

Despite crashing against an adamantine pillar, too dazed by what he just witnessed, the prince didn't register the pain, and just lay there, trembling in sweat and confusion. Upon ascension, each new monarch shed his blood on the Lineage Tablet. The tablet compared the tester's blood with the previous monarch's to re-confirm the genealogy. A brother's blood would make the tablet glow orange, dark-brown for a cousin, and bright-red for a son. All three qualified. However, if someone with no blood ties to the Hisyar lineage dripped his blood on the tablet, it'd lose all colors.

Anyone on the scene knew what the crown prince's results meant, and while rumors on that topic circulated behind closed doors, they still couldn't believe the facts: the king was cucked.

"The Lineage Tablet is only used during the new monarch's coronation ceremony to showcase his genealogy to the court. Privately, such a test would be no different from asking the queen and consorts to abdicate their titles and commit suicide. So for generations, we kept it out of our private lives. But since this concerns the unbroken line of the Hisyar clan, I cannot but reveal the truth," Mehran began, and even before he said the rest, the royals' eyes burned with frenzied rage and indignation, all aimed at the queen, dowager and commandant.

"The crown prince is the bastard offspring of the grand commandant, my beloved preceptor. Thirty-two years ago, the dowager feared that my extreme focus on affairs of the state and 'unruly' behavior would leave the throne without a suitable heir, an heir she and her house could control. So she pushed the commandant, her cousin, and my queen, her niece, into one another's arms. Once certain of conception, she immediately set up a romantic evening for the queen and I, letting me sleep with her to remove all potential doubts on the upcoming pregnancy. Following my death, they planned to use the coronation ceremony to reveal the truth, exterminate the Hisyar clan, and change the ruling house.

Royal elders, brothers and sisters, If you are fine with this, I can abdicate now. If not, maybe we should postpone this until better candidates show up," Mehran inquired.