Read Novel Full Chapter 577: The Trial 2
Chapter 577: The Trial 2
The massive doors remained open as a squad of elite guards emerged from the corridor beyond.
Immediately, the atmosphere inside the Great Hall changed.
Every eye turned toward the entrance.
Every conversation ceased.
Every breath seemed to catch in anticipation.
Then Prince Khan appeared.
A wave of fury erupted throughout the hall.
The prince who had once been adored by the people now walked forward as a disgraced traitor.
His appearance shocked many who had not seen him since his arrest.
The proud prince who had once carried himself with confidence was gone.
A heavy restraining ring had been fastened around his neck, suppressing his cultivation and ensuring he could not resist.
His wrists were bound by reinforced cuffs forged specifically for powerful cultivators.
Several chains connected the restraints, limiting his movements.
Elite guards surrounded him from every direction.
The message was clear.
The Empire no longer viewed him as royalty.
It viewed him as a dangerous criminal.
The moment the crowd saw him clearly, the Great Hall exploded.
“TRAITOR!”
“SHAME!”
“HE BETRAYED LECHIA!”
“DEATH TO THE TRAITOR!”
The sheer volume of voices shook the chamber.
Thousands of citizens stood from their seats.
Many pointed angrily.
Others cursed him openly.
Years ago these same people had cheered whenever he appeared before them.
Now they looked at him with disgust.
The contrast was heartbreaking.
And it was only beginning.
A rotten fruit suddenly flew through the air.
SPLAT!
It struck Khan’s shoulder.
Another followed.
Then another.
Soon objects were being thrown from every direction.
Rotten vegetables.
Pieces of food.
Scraps of cloth.
Anything people could get their hands on before they entered the great hall.
The guards immediately tightened their formation around him.
Yet even they could not stop everything.
Several objects struck the prince as he was escorted forward.
The hatred of the people had reached a boiling point.
Many believed their suffering during recent years could be traced back to the actions of the usurpers.
And one of their own princes had been an accomplice.
To them, his betrayal was unforgivable.
The insults continued.
“You sold us out!”
“You betrayed your mother!”
“You betrayed the Empire!”
“You deserve worse than death!”
An elderly veteran stood and pointed at Khan.
“My son died fighting those monsters!”
His voice cracked with rage.
“And you helped them!”
The man’s words silenced several nearby citizens.
Many shared similar stories.
Brothers lost.
Fathers lost.
Children lost.
Entire families destroyed.
To them, Khan’s betrayal was not political.
It was personal.
The prince kept his head lowered.
Whether from shame or resignation, nobody could tell.
Then came something even uglier.
Several citizens spat toward him.
Some of the spit landed on the floor.
Some reached his clothes.
More hateful words followed.
The crowd’s fury had become almost uncontrollable.
The guards struggled to maintain order.
Several commanders barked instructions as soldiers moved through the chamber.
“Maintain discipline!”
“Remain seated!”
“No further disturbances!”
It took considerable effort to prevent the situation from descending into complete chaos.
Even many nobles appeared disturbed by the hatred on display.
Yet none of them intervened.
Because deep down, they understood where it came from.
The people felt betrayed.
Not merely by a prince.
But by the future they had believed in.
Khan had not only betrayed his mother.
He had betrayed an entire nation.
Slowly, step by step, the guards pushed through the sea of anger.
The journey toward the trial box felt endless.
Every meter was accompanied by more insults.
More accusations.
More expressions of disgust.
Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, the guards finally reached the center of the hall.
There stood the trial box.
A reinforced platform enclosed by powerful formations.
Designed to contain dangerous criminals during major proceedings.
The irony was impossible to ignore.
The place where murderers, traitors, and war criminals stood accused was now occupied by a prince.
The guards guided Khan inside.
The restraints remained firmly in place.
Several formation masters immediately activated the containment arrays around the platform.
Runes glowed softly beneath the floor.
Layers of security surrounded him.
Only then did the soldiers finally step back.
The crowd continued to glare at him.
Some still shouted insults.
Others simply stared.
A few looked almost disappointed.
As though they still struggled to accept that this broken man was once their future king.
Khan stood alone within the trial box.
His royal lineage no longer offered him protection.
His title no longer inspired respect.
His future no longer belonged to him.
For several moments, silence slowly returned to the Great Hall.
The people had vented much of their anger.
Now their attention shifted elsewhere.
Toward the throne.
Toward the grand entrance behind it.
Toward the person whose arrival would officially begin the trial.
The Empress.
The mother of the accused.
The ruler of Lechia.
The woman who would soon have to decide the fate of her own son.
The hall became deathly quiet.
Even the rulers seated near the throne remained motionless.
King Highmoor watched silently.
The Emperor of Rus folded his hands.
The King of Blackmare narrowed his eyes.
Lucas sat with the girls, his gaze fixed upon the throne.
Everyone waited.
The nobles waited.
The soldiers waited.
The commoners waited.
Even Prince Khan slowly raised his head toward the entrance.
The entire hall seemed frozen in anticipation.
Then, from beyond the great doors behind the throne, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the chamber.
The Empress had arrived.
And the trial of Prince Khan was about to begin.
The Empress emerged.
She wore her full imperial regalia, the golden robes of Lechia flowing behind her as she walked forward with measured grace. Upon her head rested the Imperial Crown, a symbol of the authority she carried and the burden she bore.
There was no sign of weakness on her face.
No sign of the grief that had consumed her over the past three days.
No sign of the mother.
Today, she appeared only as the ruler of Lechia.
The moment she entered the hall, everyone rose to their feet.
Nobles stood.
Generals stood.
Cultivators stood.
Officials stood.
The thousands of citizens present stood as one.
Only the visiting monarchs remained seated.
King Highmoor.
The Emperor of Rus.
The King of Blackmare.
As rulers equal in status, they were not required to stand.
The Empress acknowledged them with a slight nod before allowing her gaze to sweep across the hall.
The room remained silent.
She then gave a small gesture with her hand.
Immediately, everyone returned to their seats.
The sound of thousands sitting echoed briefly through the chamber before silence reclaimed the hall.
The Empress continued forward.
Every step seemed to reverberate through the room.
Her expression remained unreadable.
Calm.
Dignified.
Absolute.
As she approached the throne, her eyes briefly shifted.
For a single moment, they landed upon the trial box.
Upon Prince Khan.
Mother and son locked eyes.
The exchange lasted only a heartbeat.
Yet everyone nearby felt the weight of it.
There was no warmth in her gaze.
No affection.
No hatred either.
Only disappointment.
A disappointment so deep that it seemed to cut deeper than any anger ever could.
Khan immediately lowered his head.
Unable to maintain eye contact.
The Empress said nothing.
She simply continued walking.
A few moments later, she ascended the steps leading to the Imperial Throne.
The symbol of Lechia’s power.
The throne Khan had once been destined to inherit.
The throne he would now never sit upon.
She turned and faced the hall.
Then slowly took her seat.
The chamber seemed to grow even quieter.
The trial had officially begun.
For several moments, nobody spoke.
The Empress allowed her gaze to sweep across the gathering.
The rulers.
The nobles.
The military.
The citizens.
The accused.
Everyone was present.
Everything was prepared.
At last, she gave a slight nod.
The signal had been given.
An elderly man immediately stepped forward from the side of the chamber.
His long silver robes marked him as one of Lechia’s senior judicial elders.
A respected figure whose duty was to oversee matters of law and ensure proper procedure was followed.
In his hands rested a large document bound with imperial seals.
The evidence.
The charges.
The accusations that had brought a prince before the judgment of an empire.
The elder walked slowly toward the center of the hall.
Every eye followed him.
The old man stopped before the trial box and turned to face the gathering.
He broke the seals one by one.
The faint crack of wax echoed through the silent chamber.
Then he unfolded the document.
His expression became solemn.
Even he seemed to understand the gravity of what he was about to read.
The charges against an ordinary citizen would never have attracted such attention.
But these charges were against the heir of Lechia.
Against the son of the Empress herself.
The elder took a slow breath.
The enormous hall became utterly silent.
Not a single whisper could be heard.
Thousands waited.
The rulers watched.
The nobles listened.
The people held their breath.
And Prince Khan stood alone within the trial box as the elder prepared to read the crimes that would determine his fate.
Then the elder raised the document before him and opened his mouth to speak.