Translator: EndlessFantasy Translation Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation
The wind was blowing violently in the spiritual beasts’ arena. Sand and rocks sprayed all over the place and the whole area seemed to have been split apart by the powerful Ice Condensation Technique. In a matter of seconds, the entire arena had been destroyed.
At that time, an oddly colorful halo had appeared in the sky, accompanied by thunder and lightning. After a brief intertwining of green, white, red, black, and yellow, it suddenly disappeared into the dark clouds.
The smoke and dust on the sacrificial grounds dispersed among the ruins and broken walls. Feng Ruchu’s injured body was shaking like a leaf.
She was no longer energetic, that stubborn pride she had shown earlier now gone. Feng Ruchu was covered in wounds and blood, with a gruesome wound between her eyebrows. She did not know when she had been hit there, but it was bathing her face in bright red blood.
Everyone on the high platform was shocked—no one could comprehend what had just happened.
Everything had happened so quickly that they had barely seen it!
“What is happening? How did such a strange celestial phenomenon appear here?” Someone yelled in panic.
Feng Mo’er did not care about some weird celestial phenomenon—she just wanted to crush the body of this woman who had embarrassed and disrespected her.
She raised her sword viciously to stab Feng Ruchu.
Suddenly, a jolt ran through her and Feng Mo’er felt a sharp pain in her wrist. With a loud ‘pop’, her sword was knocked out of her hand.
“What? Who dares knock down your aunt’s sword?!” Feng Mo’er screeched, her features twisted into an ugly snarl at having her attack blocked once again.
A faint scent of flowers suddenly filled the air.
As the fragrance wafted by, the cloudy sky gradually cleared, along with the storm. It was only drizzling lightly now.
The six people on top of the high platform reacted quickly—they left their seats and knelt down respectfully on the ground, saying in unison, “Our respects to the Saint!”
As soon as they finished speaking, a magnificent sedan chair floated down slowly in the rain from the clear sky in the distance. There was a light breeze that made the soft yarn dance under the light.
A white figure was leaning lazily against the golden silk inside the sedan chair. Unfortunately, the entrance of the sedan chair was covered by the yarn and it was impossible for them to see the saint.
“Your Grace, might I know why you are here?” Jingang welcomed the person in the sedan chair politely as he knelt on the high platform.
“When I came out earlier, I noticed a sudden celestial phenomenon occur in the sacrificial grounds here,” the person seated inside drawled indifferently, his voice cold as ice.
After a pause, the person chuckled before saying, “I have been in isolation for more than ten years now, when exactly did I acquire an extra aunt?”
Feng Zheng who was below the high platform was the first to react—he immediately dropped to his knees and lowered his head in front of the sedan, saying, “Your Grace, please forgive me. My little girl does not know how to watch her mouth and must have offended you with her words.”
Feng Zheng was the chancellor, and most trusted minister, of Nanqiu Kingdom. However, when faced with the entire Canglan Continent and the venerable Holy Cloud Palace that had been admired by so many for thousands of years, he could only tremble, as humble as an ant.
The person in the sedan was quiet for a while.
Feng Zheng waited for a few seconds. When there was no response from the Saint, he broke out into a cold sweat, drenching his clothes.