The room was empty, and a cool breeze was blowing through the window. Mo Xuan sat up from the bed, wiped the fine sweat on his forehead, slowly got off the bed, and walked to the window.

He had that dream again, and he dreamed it a long time ago. At that time, he had just ascended the throne and became the emperor, although he was said to be someone else's puppet, but on the surface, he was admired by thousands of people.

Even if all this is the surface of hypocrisy, it is just a light that allows him to be dragged from the dark depths

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