Chapter 51 Luck "Who is Anos?"

Shi Wei went to YN1 Star to relax, but His Majesty did not accompany her. The wise Second Prince Simanlan thought this was a good opportunity, so he happily followed her.

Strangely, the old man didn't say anything; he just glanced at him when he heard that he was going to leave.

"Are you going?" Similan asked Cyril feigned concern. In fact, he already knew that Cyril was about to go on vacation to some planet, but he still asked.

"No." Cyril shook his head, looking very calm.

The second prince, with his mad dog-like intuition, immediately sensed something was wrong, but he couldn't figure out what the problem was, and he quickly dismissed the thought.

Because he can go out and play with Shiwei now.

Just the two of us, hehe.

After boarding the aircraft, he discovered a familiar, burly man with thick eyebrows and big eyes—the guard captain, Lavezzi.

"What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be with Father?" Similan looked at Lavezzi with displeasure.

Lavezzi looked honest and simple: "Your Highness, I'm here to protect Miss Shi. I feel very guilty about the accident last time, so I will definitely be more vigilant this time. Please rest assured, Your Highness! With me here, there will be no accidents!"

Similan: It's because you're here that I can't put my mind at ease.

But he had no reason to kick the person out, so he could only sit down next to Shi Wei, feeling dejected, to see what she was doing.

"Huh? Rosemary Quinn coefficient... ecological civilization and electronic information... the digital universe revolution?" A bunch of dry and profound technical terms. Similan frowned and said, "What the hell is this?"

"Leave me alone, I'm doing my homework!"

"What homework? You're sixty years old and you still need to do schoolwork? Come on, let's play games! I recently discovered a really fun game. Give me your personal computer, I'll download it for you..."

"No, I don't want to play!"

Come on!

...

Lavezzi watched the two young men and women playing games and thought it was a wonderful coincidence. At this time last year, they were at each other's throats, but now they were playing together.

But Your Majesty is really carefree. Aren't you afraid of developing feelings for him?

Do you still think Prince Similan is not competitive at all?

Moreover, Lavezzi always felt that His Majesty seemed to be intentionally sending Miss Shi and Prince Similan away, because His Majesty had nothing to do recently and could have come with Miss Shi.

But these are not things he should worry about. He needs to pull himself together. If Miss Shi loses her again, his life will truly be over.

The Holy Monument.

The silent building, untouched for decades, was broken by a group of people.

With only a handful of people present, the gatekeeper took the token handed to him by the emperor and opened the sacred stele.

This was a secret opening; no one knew about it.

“Go,” Sklag II said to his son.

A blush rose on Cyril's pale face; the usually composed man couldn't help but get excited at this moment.

The slender figure disappeared behind the door.

The emperor muttered, "What's there to get excited about?"

Cyril stood in a white space, surrounded by thick fog that seemed like a mischievous imp, lifting his clothes, tugging at his hair, and pinching his cheek—

"Huh? Why isn't it that kid?"

An unfamiliar but very pleasant female voice came from above his head.

Cyril instinctively looked up, but was blinded by the dazzling golden light.

"Oops!" He heard that voice again: "The special effects are too strong, sorry, sorry!"

A gentle breeze blew by, the mist dissipated, and the golden light gradually dimmed amidst the murmurs. Only then did he see the voice.

It was a cloud of mist, from which a human figure—a woman's body—emerged.

She had black hair, blue eyes, wore a gorgeous gold vintage dress, and a gold crown.

A very beautiful face, radiating arrogance and coldness, shattered the moment one saw it.

She threw away the crown, and from her floating position, landed directly on the ground, looking at him with a strange expression—

Cyril was surprised to discover that she actually had a physical form.

He had read the secret records on the top floor of the library and always thought that the Holy Monument had some special ability to preserve a part of Asta's spiritual power, allowing her to exist as a spiritual being.

But she is real now, not an illusion—his mental strength is very strong, unless the other party's mental strength is much higher than his.

The other person pinched his cheek again, and Cyril couldn't dodge it at all. He heard her ask, "Who are you? That arrogant brat's little brat?"

If Cyril couldn't guess who the brat she was talking about was before, now—he could probably guess.

He paused for a moment before saying, "I am Cyril Zelan Chris, the eighty-sixth emperor of Manra—"

The other person pinched his mouth shut and said impatiently, "Alright, alright, I know who you are. Stop chanting your names that you can't finish in one breath. Why is it you who came? Wasn't it that kid's blood that opened the door?"

That cocky brat, that kid, his name is so long it's impossible to pronounce.

These words are hard to associate with his wise and powerful father.

Cyril organized his thoughts before saying, "I've encountered some difficulties, and even my father couldn't help me, so he gave me the opportunity from the last hundred years ago. I've come to ask for your help..."

He saw the person in front of him give a contemptuous smile, his tone strange: "Oh~ so he has to ask me for help now? Why doesn't he come by himself?"

Even the most oblivious person could probably guess what kind of grudge this man had against his father. Cyril awkwardly touched his nose and softened his tone: "My father said that only one person can enter at a time, so he only sent me."

Asta floated back into the air, waved his hand, and the space transformed into a royal garden, except that everything was floating. Cyril was lifted up by a strange force and placed opposite her.

The two sat down at an exquisite white stone table, with a cup of tea in front of Cyril.

He was too shocked to speak. Asta, sitting on a stone bench, floated around, surveying the garden.

"Wow, when did his taste become so good?" the powerful, almost suffocating woman said, staring at the roses in the flowerbed.

A long stone statue floated over, which she grabbed. Now she was genuinely surprised: "Isn't that me?"

Cyril glanced at it and realized it was the one Shi Wei had placed in the garden.

Asta, clutching a stone statue identical to her, floated back as if witnessing the moment of the Big Bang and the origin of life. She asked him, "Has anything major happened to Manra in recent decades? Has she been under a lot of pressure? Why has Anos's personality changed so drastically, and why is he keeping my statue in the garden? Will he still go to worship it?"

"Uh, occasionally." Although Shi Wei had dragged him there, Cyril didn't explain, but asked, "Who is Anos?"

This time it was Asta's turn to be surprised. He asked incredulously, "Isn't he your father?"

Cyril: "..." He suddenly realized that the world only had a few titles for his father.

Your Majesty, Emperor, Sklag II.

Even he didn't know what his father's original name was.

Asta stared at him for a long time, looking at him with concern: "You don't have a problem here, so he sent you here for me to fix?"

Her hand was pointing at Cyril's head.

"This is a bit of a problem. I'm not very good with brains... Hey, do you know how to cure an idiot?" she shouted into the air.

Nobody paid any attention to her.

Cyril roughly knew why her father disliked her.

He said with difficulty, "It's not that. I... I can't sleep right now—"

"Can't sleep? You're coming to me for that too?" Asta asked incredulously, "Sleeping pills didn't work? Why don't you take more..."

“Nothing works, I’ve tried everything.” Cyril sighed. “I haven’t slept in over half a year.”

"And what about this method?" Asta raised the stone statue in his hand, looking as if he wanted to smash it on his head.

"Please don't do this." Cyril gave a tired smile. He was really good-looking, which made people feel sorry for him.

Asta also abandoned his cynical attitude, extended a hand to him, and placed it on his forehead.

An overwhelming mental force spread out, and his first mental reaction was to fight back, but it was like an ant fighting an elephant, and he was quickly crushed.

Her mental power directly invaded Cyril's brain, and within a few breaths, it enveloped his body.

About ten minutes later, her mental energy slowly withdrew.

When Cyril saw her solemn expression, his heart sank.

...

I thought I would have to wait a few days, but to my surprise, Cyril came out after only a dozen hours, and he looked much better than before.

However, there seemed to be a sense of loneliness in his eyes.

Just as His Majesty was about to say something, he saw him smile and say, "Sorry to keep you waiting. I took a nap inside."

The father's face visibly relaxed a little.

"Is there a way?" King Sklag II asked. Although he hated the woman, if she couldn't do it, then no one in the world could.

“That lady used her spiritual power to help me recover, saying it would improve things a lot.” A hint of melancholy flashed in Cyril’s eyes: “I might still have insomnia in the future, but it won’t affect my health too much. I should still be able to live for another hundred years or so.”

King Sklag II was relieved: "It's alright. Many members of the royal family don't live past 100. 150 is a long life for Emperor Manla."

Cyril nodded and said, "At least, it won't be so bad that Father has to watch me leave first."

King Sklag II felt a sharp pain in his heart; ever since the genetic testing report was opened, he had been filled with anguish.

"I'm sorry." His voice was low. No matter what's wrong with the child, the parents can't escape responsibility.

The handsome young man hugged his father and said, "How could that be? Without you, I would not have come into this world. Being able to receive your guidance is the greatest fortune of my life."

He spoke these words sincerely, and as a father, His Majesty has no fault in doing so.

-----------------------

Author's Note: Finally, after fifty chapters, His Majesty has a name.

I wasn't originally planning to write about this part in detail, but leaving it out would seem too enigmatic, so I wrote about Cyril's story.

In fact, I cut some of his storyline, and gave his younger brother more screen time.

...

There's a reason His Majesty dislikes Asta, haha.

On the surface: not wanting to disturb the ancestors.

Actually: Stop bothering me.