They flew swiftly up.
In the piercing cold wind, the Empress stood at the forefront, her heart already surging with excitement.
Although she had devoted her entire heart and soul to her country upon her coronation, at this moment, when she saw her citizens, saw them cheering for her, she still couldn't help but tremble with emotion.
Even if it meant sacrificing herself for the sake of the common people, for all living beings, she would do it.
Concerns about face, honor, or disgrace were all inconsequential; history would give her a just assessment.
The imperial robe fluttered, jet-black hair flew wild, all against the backdrop of that cool yet stunningly beautiful face.
The citizens below had all gone mad.
Including the cultivators, so-called young talents, whose gazes burned with fervor as they looked up at the high and mighty Empress, increasingly treating her as a deity.
Even Zhao Cheng's breathing became rapid, a sickly flush on his pale cheeks.