The powerful wings of the eagle beat, whipping up dust. Every flap seemed to mercilessly toy with the prey beneath its claws.
The youth's agonized wails sounded especially piercing amid the subdued crowd kneeling in worship.
The old man watched the small disturbance below without expression, as though it were nothing more than an insignificant farce.
Several days later.
Deep within the vast Hundred Thousand Great Mountains.
Two sedan carriages traveled toward the Shang Tribe.
A colossal power with tens of millions of people, one whose mere stomp could trigger an earthquake across the southern territory.
When the sedan carriages slowly entered the Shang Tribe's magnificent domain, the sight stood in stark contrast to the shabby poverty of the tribes they had passed before.
A grand complex of palaces occupied the highest point at the center of the tribe, its main hall towering like a mountain.
At that moment, from the palace gates to the enormous plaza before the hall, large enough to accommodate ten thousand people, the ground was densely packed with kneeling figures.
The Shang Tribe's people, regardless of status, were all prostrate on the ground.
Only countless heavy breaths and suppressed heartbeats formed a dull buzzing hum across the empty square.
As the Shang Tribe's chieftain, the actual king of this vast territory.
A middle-aged man with a burly frame, an imposing face, and a dark royal robe embroidered with suns, moons, stars, and fierce beasts.
The gaze with which he usually looked down upon the world had been replaced by deep reverence.
The two ornate sedan carriages ignored the spectacular sight of ten thousand people prostrating themselves.
The old man said, "This is His Majesty's fifteenth princess, Her Highness Mingyu."
The old man's voice was not loud.
"Greetings, Your Highness Mingyu! May Your Highness enjoy ten