Chapter 541 The Emperor's Bestowal of Marriage

Shen Mo glanced around at the faces that had instantly turned fawning, a cold smile playing on his lips. On the surface, however, he could only feign deep gratitude and bow deeply once more: "Since Your Majesty is so kind, this humble subject… no, this humble servant… can only repay Your Majesty's kindness with my life!"

"Good! Good! Good!" Zhao Yan said three times, his face beaming with joy, as if he had solved a huge problem.

As the court assembly ended, the officials filed out, each whispering about this unprecedented investiture, their eyes filled with awe and complex emotions as they looked at Shen Mo. However, at that moment, Zhao Yan suddenly spoke, calling out to Shen Mo, who was about to leave.

"Lord Protector, wait a moment."

Shen Mo paused, slowly turned around, and respectfully asked, "Does Your Majesty have any further instructions?"

Zhao Yan spoke slowly, his voice low but deliberately casual, "I have something I'd like to discuss with you privately."

Shen Mo stood with his hands at his sides, his posture respectful, but his mind was as clear as a mirror.

"Your Majesty, please speak," Shen Mo said calmly.

Zhao Yan wore a gentle smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I have a younger sister named Zhao Ling. Having heard of the legendary 'Sword God' in the martial world, she has long admired you… regarding you as a hero of our time, an idol." He paused, his gaze fixed on Shen Mo's eyes, trying to detect a flicker of emotion in those deep, unfathomable pupils. "I wonder if the Duke of Protectorate… would be willing to meet her?"

This seemingly casual question actually contains a hidden meaning.

Zhao Yan's mind was as intricate as a spider's web: the royal family's last trump card—the unfathomably powerful "Long Yuan"—was dead. The current royal family, outwardly glamorous, was utterly hollow inside. If they were to encounter another assassin as powerful as yesterday, certain death was inevitable. And this "Sword God" before him possessed martial prowess surpassing even Long Yuan's. Zhao Yan desperately needed a rope to firmly bind him to the royal chariot. And a marriage alliance was undoubtedly the fastest and most effective way.

If Shen Mo readily agrees, and even reveals his admiration for the princess, then the marriage proposal will proceed naturally. If he refuses outright, it means that this person has no ambition for the court and harbors ulterior motives, and one will need to make other plans.

Shen Mo instantly understood the emperor's probing intent. He sighed inwardly, but showed no sign of it on his face, simply replying calmly, "Your Majesty, I... have already met with Her Highness the Eldest Princess."

"What?" Zhao Yan's smile faltered slightly, and a hint of undisguised astonishment flashed in his eyes.

He never expected that his reclusive younger sister would take the initiative to approach Shen Mo! Moreover, Shen Mo's tone was so natural, it was clearly not a chance encounter.

But his imperial composure allowed him to quickly suppress the turmoil in his heart, and he once again donned his gentle mask, though his eyes had become even sharper. "Oh? Is that so?" he asked, feigning ease. "Then... what does the Duke of Protectorate think of my sister...?"

The air seemed to freeze. Every word Zhao Yan spoke weighed heavily on Shen Mo's heart. He knew that his answer would directly determine the course of events.

Shen Mo hesitated for a moment, the image of the girl behind the rockery in the Imperial Garden, with clear eyes and frank words, yet carrying a hint of royal pride and loneliness, surfacing in his mind. He carefully chose his words, his tone sincere and gentle: "Her Highness the Princess... is very easy to get along with. She is kind-hearted, unlike the arrogant ladies of ordinary families, instead... possessing a rare childlike innocence."

He didn't use clichéd compliments like "beautiful" or "dignified," but rather accurately captured Zhao Ling's most unique qualities. This evaluation was neither overly intimate nor distant; it was just right.

Upon hearing this, Zhao Yan's tense shoulders quietly relaxed.

He nodded, a genuine sense of relief finally appearing in his eyes. It seemed his sister's judgment had been right after all. Shen Mo's answer gave him the greatest confidence.

"Good, good!" Zhao Yan said "good" twice, then changed the subject and became serious. He walked up to Shen Mo, his gaze intense and earnest, leaving no room for doubt: "Since the Duke of Protectorate also thinks my little sister is good, then I will swallow my pride and ask."

He took a deep breath, as if making a firm decision, and said, word by word, "My younger sister is still unmarried. For the past two years, I have been so worried about her marriage that I have lost sleep and appetite. Now, I see that the Duke of Protectorate is a hero of unparalleled skill, and that he and my sister seem to have a mutual attraction... so perhaps..." Zhao Yan paused, seemingly giving Shen Mo time to process this, before dropping the bombshell:

"How about I betroth Zhao Ling to you, to be your... third wife? What do you say?"

As soon as he finished speaking, the entire hall fell into a deathly silence.

The wind outside the Golden Palace seemed to have stopped, and even the wisps of ambergris incense seemed to linger in the air.

Zhao Yan's gaze was fixed on Shen Mo's face, waiting for his answer.

This was not merely a marriage proposal, but a political alliance, a final confirmation that Shen Mo would be completely integrated into the royal system.

At this moment, Shen Mo's heart was also stirred up by a raging storm.

He had considered countless possibilities, but he had never expected Zhao Yan to be so direct. Marrying a princess from a previous dynasty meant he would officially become a member of the imperial family, with an unparalleled status, but it also meant he would be completely drawn into the political vortex of the royal court, from which he would find it difficult to escape. What would Murong Qing, Situ Meng… think?

His mind raced, weighing the pros and cons. Refusing would allow him to remain aloof, but it would inevitably chill Zhao Yan's heart, shattering the newly established trust and potentially pushing the young emperor to the opposite side. Accepting, on the other hand, would secure the strongest royal endorsement, completely neutralizing the court's threat to the martial arts world and creating unprecedented opportunities for its development.

However, whichever path you choose will have a profound impact on the future.

Shen Mo remained silent, his expression shifting between thoughts about the future and a complex mix of emotions that were difficult to articulate.

Zhao Yan did not urge him, but waited quietly.

He knew this was a question Shen Mo needed to ponder deeply. At this moment, the fate of both the martial world and the imperial court seemed to hang on Shen Mo's lips. How would he answer? Would he gladly accept this immense glory and responsibility, or politely decline and continue being the carefree "Sword God" who roamed the martial world?

Inside the Golden Palace, the air was stagnant and leaden.

Zhao Yan's question, "What do you think?" was like a stone thrown into a deep pool, stirring up a silent yet turbulent undercurrent.

In those suffocating few breaths—

"Brother!"

A clear, slightly hurried female voice, like an ice spring striking jade, suddenly broke the deathly silence in the hall.