Turns Out, I’m In A Villain Clan! Chapter 572 Respect for the Dead, Schemes for the Living

Forty-nine days elapsed in hushed stillness.

Across the vast expanse of the Desolate Heaven Empire, all forms of revelry had been extinguished.

The melodies that once graced the streets fell silent.

The bustling markets grew quiet.

Even the cultivators, in their usual pursuit, moderated their movements.

On the surface, the Empire seemed to be in a state of collective mourning.

However, beneath this veneer of tranquility... the pace of preparations never faltered.

For the entirety of those forty-nine days, blades were honed in the shadows.

Ambitious princes and princesses tirelessly worked to garner additional support.

Intricate schemes were meticulously woven behind closed doors.

And now, the fated day is upon them.

The Emperor's state funeral!

An official invitation was dispatched to every significant power.

Such an summons was one that none dared to refuse, nor did any even entertain the notion of defiance.

Streams of notable figures converged towards the Imperial Capital.

Experts, exuding formidable auras, traveled with such intensity that the very atmosphere seemed to vibrate.

The Imperial Capital... was once again teeming with presence.

Banners of white fluttered along every thoroughfare.

Draperies of black adorned the imposing walls.

Incense smoke ascended endlessly.

A dense, somber fragrance permeated the air.

At the very heart of the Imperial Palace, the grand funeral hall stood unveiled.

It was immense and breathtakingly ornate.

And yet... it felt suffocatingly heavy.

At its core lay the Emperor's ornate coffin.

Fashioned from ancient spirit wood, its surface gleamed.

Embellished with intricate golden carvings of dragons.

These were the symbols of his absolute authority.

The emblems of his formidable power.

But now, all of it signified nothing.

The man interred within no longer held dominion.

Neatly arranged rows of officials stood in solemn silence.

Their heads were bowed low.

Their expressions grave and unmoving.

Positioned behind them were the princes and princesses.

Clad in the attire of mourning.

Robes of pure white.

Sashes of deep black.

Only the Empress and the various Queens openly expressed their sorrow.

Their lamentations echoed throughout the vast hall, heavy with profound grief and despair.

The mourning hall remained enveloped in a profound, respectful silence.

Yet, that stillness was not destined to endure.

One by one... the formidable powers began to make their entrance.

Each arrival was akin to a powerful tempest descending upon the palace grounds.

Heavy, measured footsteps resounded.

Auras were unfurled without any attempt at restraint.

It was as though each attending faction was making a clear declaration: We have arrived.

And we are powers that must not be overlooked.

The vanguard consisted of several mid-tier sects and established aristocratic clans.

They entered with disciplined formations, their chosen elites trailing closely behind, their collective presence steady yet carefully controlled.

They offered their formal respects.

They bowed deeply before the Emperor's coffin.

Yet, even in their obeisance, their eyes subtly darted about –

Observing potential rivals.

Assessing potential allies.

Glancing towards the princes and princesses whom they had chosen to support.

A curt nod was exchanged with them.

Then, the atmosphere palpably shifted.

A significantly more formidable pressure descended upon the hall.

The Li Clan had made their grand entrance.

Leading the procession was Li Jianhong himself.

Directly behind him, Grand Elders followed in succession, their imposing presences like

immense, unyielding mountains.

However, a subtle alteration was noticeable compared to previous encounters.

Their numbers were diminished by one.

It was common knowledge that the recent conflict involving the Half-Qilin had exacted a heavy toll.

Even so, the strength that remained was more than sufficient to overpower the majority of the assembled forces.

Their arrival drew a multitude of observing eyes.

Some regarded them with apprehension.

Others with deep respect.

Still others with shrewd calculation. Not long thereafter, another surge of palpable pressure swept through the area.

The Zhao Clan!

Zhao Wutian strode forward, his demeanor composed yet undeniably authoritative.

Following in his wake, their Grand Elders advanced like an overpowering tide, exuding immense strength.

More formidable forces continued to arrive.

Sect after sect made its appearance.

Clan after clan entered the hall.

Each bringing their most potent members.

The ambient air grew progressively heavier, more oppressive.

It was no exaggeration to state that this solemn gathering had drawn together more concentrated power than had been witnessed even during the protracted wars against the Demonic Forces.

And the prevailing understanding among most was clear.

This occasion was far more than a mere expression of respect.

It was a critical juncture determining their collective future.

And then, the dynamic of the entire gathering irrevocably changed. A new, distinct presence descended. The Bai Clan had arrived.

At their forefront was Bai Zihan.

The newly appointed Clan Leader.

The instant he entered the hall, countless gazes became fixed upon him.

Something about Bai Zihan was distinctly different.

His outward appearance had matured, though the transformation was not drastically pronounced.

More significantly, his entire aura, his very presence, had undergone a profound metamorphosis.

It now felt ethereal and profoundly untouchable.

No one could precisely articulate the reason – yet every single individual present perceived it acutely.

Behind him stood Bai Ren.

And accompanying them, at Bai Zihan's side, was Bai Tianheng.

The former Clan Leader.

At first glance, nothing appeared overtly unusual about the situation.

Bai Tianheng held a certain connection to the deceased Emperor, making his presence understandable, even if he had been in prolonged seclusion.

However, to those possessing exceptionally keen perception – particularly cultivators within the Immortal Realm – their expressions underwent a visible shift.

A hushed murmur began to circulate amongst them.

"Look... Bai Tianheng..."

"He's changed..."

"He has ascended to the Immortal Realm."

A wave of silent shock rippled through the assembly.

"So, he actually succeeded..." "Well, it was anticipated. With the formidable Mu Clan backing them... do you truly

believe they would be lacking in the crucial Heavenly Ascension Tempering Pill?"

"But now, this means the Bai Clan possesses another cultivator of the Immortal Realm."

A few individuals exchanged meaningful glances.

Their perspectives and calculations instantly reoriented.

The Bai Clan had demonstrably augmented their strength even further.

A subsequent wave of relief washed over many observers.

"...It appears the Bai Clan has no intention of vying for the

throne."

"That is for the best!"

"If they had intervened... all would have been lost."

Had they truly wished to meddle, a larger contingent of their most formidable members would have been brought forth to assert dominance.

For it was widely understood:

Should the Bai Clan decide to back one side...

The scales of power would be irrevocably tipped.

The Bai Alliance commanded more than half of the Empire's elite cultivators.

A single decree from them could decisively alter the entire outcome.

Yet, their neutrality remained steadfast.

It mattered not whom they might support, for the Bai Clan stood apart, backing no one.

Bai Zihan did not even broach the subject of opposing Yu Feiyan.

He understood that if she genuinely sought their endorsement, mere words would prove insufficient to deter her.

It was more prudent to feign detachment.

It was wiser to allow her vigilance to wane.

He then proceeded forward, accompanied by his father and Bai Ren.

With measured steps, they approached the Emperor's coffin.

Soon, he found himself standing directly before it.

From this closer vantage point, the figure within became more distinct.

The once supreme ruler of the Desolate Heaven Empire now lay in complete stillness.

His countenance was ashen.

His imposing aura had utterly vanished.

However, a subtle trace of lingering resentment still creased his brows.

It was as if, even in death, he could not relinquish his hold.

Bai Zihan lowered his gaze.

Subsequently, he offered a respectful bow.

For a man who had once commanded the apex of an empire.

Upon rising, his eyes remained fixed on the Emperor's placid face.

He could only speculate about the Emperor's final moments.

Whether they were consumed by regret.

By a sense of helplessness.

Or perhaps by a quiet acceptance.

However, he possessed a clear understanding of the Emperor's character during his reign.

He was cautious!

Perpetually striving for equilibrium.

Constantly endeavoring to preserve stability—even if that stability was tenuous.

Even if it was transient, even if it did not represent genuine peace.

Nevertheless, it was something tangible.

In a world as tumultuous as this... such an accomplishment was by no means simple.

At the very least, the Emperor had managed to postpone the onset of utter chaos.

And in doing so, he had shielded countless ordinary lives from being engulfed by

strife.

This act alone deserved recognition.

Bai Zihan's gaze softened somewhat.

Even if the Emperor had harbored suspicions toward the Bai Clan...

Even if he had sought to curb their escalating influence... That too was comprehensible. From his perspective as the sovereign, it was a natural course of action.

There was no personal animosity involved.

Merely conflicting roles. Conflicting duties.

Ultimately, he had acted as a ruler, fulfilling what he believed to be necessary.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

Furthermore, harboring resentment towards the deceased served no purpose.

Bai Zihan cast another glance at the faint trace of unfulfilled desire etched upon the

Emperor's features.

"I wish you peace in the realm beyond."

He then stepped back.

***

A gradual calm descended upon the grand hall as all attendees concluded their tributes to the departed Emperor.

The collective weight of innumerable gazes, myriad unspoken intentions, permeated the

atmosphere.

And then, the solemn funeral rites commenced.

A profound, sonorous bell began to toll.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

Each reverberation echoed throughout the immense hall, spreading outwards like

ripples, signifying the definitive end of an epoch.

All conversations ceased.

All movements became still.

At the forefront, ceremonial officials advanced in perfect unison.

Their expressions were grave.

Their actions were executed with precision.

Ancient rituals, meticulously preserved through generations, were performed without the slightest deviation.

Offerings of incense were made.

Ritualistic bows were performed.

Supplications for the deceased Emperor whispered through the hall.

On the surface... the proceedings appeared dignified and orderly.

However, beneath this veneer, the underlying currents were far more revealing.

Because as the ceremony unfolded... the positions of each faction became increasingly discernible.

One's chosen location dictated everything.

Around certain princes and princesses, powerful figures congregated.

Positioned slightly closer.

Their mere presence served as a clear signal of allegiance.

No words were necessary; the understanding was mutual.

This was no longer merely a funeral.

It was a silent proclamation.

A demarcation of loyalties.

Yu Qingya, the Fourth Princess, maintained a composed bearing.

Behind her, representatives from influential sects—most notably those affiliated with the Frost Lily Pavilion—remained as quiet observers.

Cool and dignified.

Yu Longxuan, the Seventh Prince, exuded a distinctly different charisma.

Resembling a brewing storm.

Those aligned with the Crimson Thunder Palace stood in proximity to him, their demeanor radiating aggression despite their outward restraint.

Yu Wenzhao, the Third Prince, presented an aura of calm stability.

Yet, the forces arrayed behind him were far from ordinary.

Chief among them was the Heaven Suppression Pavilion, long recognized for its support of him.

And then there was Yu Feiyan, the Ninth Princess.

Her ascent had not gone unnoticed.

Behind her stood a unique convergence: individuals from neutral sects and independent factions.

A force characterized by its unpredictability.

Their strength was hard to gauge, yet these four clans were clearly the most prominent.

They were undeniably the strongest contenders among all.

However, something else of equal importance was noticeable.

Several key presences were conspicuously absent.

The top three influential clans.

Not one of them had aligned themselves with any prince or princess.

This applied to the Li Clan.

It also applied to the Zhao Clan.

And, most critically, it did not include the Bai Clan.

These major powers remained aloof.

They maintained a distance.

Simply observing the unfolding events.

This very act caused a ripple of quiet relief to spread among many of the attending factions.

At the vanguard of the ceremony stood Yu Zidi, the First Prince.

He was positioned slightly ahead of the other royal contenders.

Throughout the solemn proceedings, he carried himself with an air of command.

He offered his counsel when it was deemed necessary.

He guided the arrangements when the situation called for it. Every action he took was precisely as expected of a destined crown prince.

And the assembled court responded to his implicit leadership.

Ministers naturally showed him deference. Officials eagerly awaited his directives.

Even without the official title, he was already embodying the role. It was evident that

the entire court favored the crown prince's ascension to the throne as the new Emperor.

When considering the backing from external clans...

His outward support may not have appeared the most substantial.

But within the very heart of the Imperial Court, his advantage was absolutely undeniable.

As the final solemn rites progressed...

As the fragrant incense slowly turned to fine ash...

As the ceremonial bell resonated once more, a solitary thought silently permeated the minds of everyone

present.

The Emperor had been laid to rest.

The fierce contest for the Dragon Throne had officially commenced!