0056 - The Right Hand of Doom.

Far off in the distance, an unsettling object emerged, slowly drifting towards the Lu Clan's domain. At first, it appeared as a mere speck in the sky, but with each passing moment, it grew larger and more ominous. It wasn't just any object; it was a colossal one—a severed right hand. Its size was gigantic, its flesh a sickly gray, and its nature demonic. 

The hand was grotesque, it was etched with strange symbols, seemingly carved directly into its flesh. These symbols weren't drawn – they looked more like stitches sewn in the flesh with glowing metal or stone. The sewn metal threads pulsed rhythmically, like a monstrous heartbeat.

On its palm rested a small object and yet it was not small or an object. It was a Palace, serene like jade and yet majestic as gold. Within the palace, at its highest balcony stood an old man, his posture tall and regal as he gazed into the distance with a sense of solemnity.

However, his attire was surprisingly humble from the splendor of the palace. Clad in a faded grey robe, washed thin to the point of resembling a rag, he also wore a simple grey headgear that symbolized his official position and his service to the Imperial lineage. He was none other than the Minister of the Left, the Venerable Grand Eunuch, Li Qingwei.

A young child, a boy, approached the old man, emanating a silver and golden glow. His clothing resembled that of a monk or a priest, but it possessed a regal style and quality.

"What's got your attention, Little Li?" the boy asked, his voice carrying an unexpected weight despite his childlike appearance.

Li Qingwei whirled around, his respect tangible as he dropped to his knees in a deep bow. "Forgive me, Your Radiance. It is unbecoming..."

"There's no need for such formality, Little Li," the boy chided. "Think of me as a friend sometimes."

Li Qingwei shook his head, his voice firm yet filled with reverence. "I am but a humble servant, Your Radiance. To speak casually would be a transgression. Only the Divine Dragon Emperor holds such a privilege, the sole being worthy of addressing you as... The Devoted Heaven's Mandate."

The boy rolled his eyes with a playful sigh. "Alright, alright. Don't want to turn our moonlit chat into a lecture on etiquette. So, what is it that has your undivided attention, Li?"

Li Qingwei turned back to the direction he had been gazing with a troubled expression. "Your Radiance," he spoke, his voice heavy with concern, "I cannot even begin to imagine how I will break this news to Patriarch Lu Zheng. News of the Lu Clan's complete annihilation in the Endless Battlefield... it will drive him into a raging rampant."

"The loss is a tragedy, that much is certain," the boy replied, his voice surprisingly deep for his small stature. "But knowing Lu Zheng as I do, he won't lash out. At worst, he'll probably charge headfirst into that Endless Battlefield, searching for his sons and grandkids."

"That can't happen," Li Qingwei worried. "We need him for the expedition to the Ten Thousand Year Yin Marsh."

"That's why I'm here, to persuade Lu Zheng. How? I'm not even sure myself," the Little Child's voice wavered with doubts.

"If he disobeys your words then he will be a traitor." Li Qingwei said with a harsh tone.

"Don't you dare recite rules in front of him, I am warning you. The Lu Clan has suffered a tragedy and any clan would be understandably distraught. We must handle this situation delicately and with empathy, not with threats of treason," the boy interrupted, his tone firm.

Li Qingwei bowed his head in acknowledgment. "Forgive me, Your Radiance. I spoke out of turn."

The boy sighed, his expression softening. "I understand your concern, Li. But we must trust in Lu Zheng's wisdom and resilience. He will come to understand the importance of the Ten Thousand Yin Marsh expedition in due time."

Suddenly, both Li Qingwei and the boy noticed someone approaching.

"What news?" Li Qingwei asked calmly.

"The messenger has returned," a voice called out from a distance.

"Bring him in quickly," the boy commanded.

Li Qingwei hesitated. "Your Radiance, no one is allowed to get close to you. Even I..."

The boy simply raised a hand, silencing him. A faint outline of a person appeared in the distance, bowing deeply without ever getting close.

"Report!" the boy ordered before Li Qingwei could object again.

"I have delivered the message to..." the messenger began, his voice barely a whisper.

"Speak up, I can't hear you," the boy demanded, even though the voice seemed perfectly audible.

Li Qingwei stepped forward, ready to rephrase the message, but the boy stopped him again.

"I..." the messenger started, raising his voice slightly, "I have delivered..."

Li Qingwei's calm demeanor vanished. "How dare you raise your voice in the presence of His Radiance!"

The boy chuckled softly. "Little Li, perhaps you could give our friend here a moment to speak?"

"Come closer, I can barely hear you. If you raise your voice, Little Li will scold me for not following propriety," the little boy urged.

"I wouldn't dare..." Li Qingwei's face flushed. He mumbled an apology under his breath, realizing he'd overstepped. The playful tone of the boy, the Devoted Heaven's Mandate made it clear arguing wouldn't help.

 The messenger, clearly hesitant, shuffled a few steps forward.

"Closer," the boy repeated gently, this time with a hint of command.

Encouraged by the clear instruction, the messenger inched closer, maintaining a respectful distance.

"You're injured," the boy noted, his sharp eyes catching a hint of pain in the messenger's posture. "A wound on your right shoulder, isn't it?"

The messenger froze, unsure if acknowledging the injury was proper, but Li Qingwei's sudden glare spurred him on. With a quick nod, the messenger confirmed the boy's observation. Years of training kicked in, reminding him that answering truthfully was a messenger's sacred duty, it's proper as it should be.

The boy stepped forward towards the messenger and stopped directly in front of him. Despite the messenger's deep bow, the boy was close enough to see him clearly. With a surprisingly strong grip for his size, he lightly placed his hand on the messenger's injured shoulder. A wave of warmth surged from the touch, relieving the messenger's pain. Whatever injury he had suffered seemed to vanish completely, leaving no trace behind.