"Xia Emperor, why did this Image Transmission Stone keep cutting in and out, unable to fully form an image?"
The Great Xia Divine Palace stood ancient and majestic, its carved beams and painted rafters etched with ancient beasts, mountains, and rivers. Within the grand stone hall, Great Xia's high-ranking officials sat uneasily, staring at the spherical strange stone on the golden table before them. It flickered with ghostly light, wreathed in pale mist, blood-red in color. Their faces were taut with anxiety, sweat pouring down like rain.
Four hours earlier, they had heard that the image transmission had revived and had entered the hall at Xia Emperor's summons, waiting quietly.
Xiao Chen had been out of contact for far too long. He was most likely trapped in mortal peril, while the lives of Great Xia's five billion people hung by a thread. Over the past several days, the high officials had neither slept nor eaten in peace. Even as Kings and Emperors, they often woke in terror at midnight, wailing like ghosts and howling like wolves.
During the days when the Image Transmission Stone had gone dark, everyone had been trembling with fear.
At long last, Xia Emperor sent word that the Image Transmission Stone was reforming its image. The Kings and Emperors suppressed their unease and rushed into the hall.
They only wanted a swift answer, so the stone in their hearts could finally fall to the ground.
Who would have thought that the Image Transmission Stone's images would keep breaking on and off? Spiritual mist curled around it, dreamlike and illusory. Like a youthful maiden too shy to meet others, still clutching her pipa with half her face hidden, it flickered in and out of sight, clawing at their hearts and tearing at their lungs.
By now, they