The starry sky, Sacred Mountain, great tree, and altar began to glow faintly.
A massive bronze altar appeared before Zhao Xing. It rested on four mountain pillars, with the remains of a human floating above it.
Only the skull remained intact; the rest was fragments. Even so, the remains still radiated a formidable pressure, secret patterns flowing across the bones. Clearly, this had been a powerful expert in life.
During the Void Ancestor Era, wars between the Human Race and the myriad races were frequent. Whenever a human expert died, a ritual would be held to resurrect them.
Dozens of towering figures chanted around the altar, continually tossing precious natural treasures into a bronze cauldron heated red-hot.
Something immense rose from the burning volcanic vent, shrouding the remains like smoke.
Zhao Xing stood among the sacrificial procession. At this point, he was merely a priest in the back row, not the one presiding.
As the ritual progressed, the gaunt elder at the very front suddenly turned to address the priests behind him.
"Open the Gate of the Living."
"Yes! Open the Gate of the Living!"
"Open the Gate of the Living!"
With a rumble, the bronze gates opened, radiating halos of light. They connected to different small worlds, to human settlements in various places.
Groups of half-naked people in grass skirts emerged, pulling one another along.
One by one, they leaped into the bronze cauldron above the sea of flames and were reduced to something pure. The bones floating overhead shone brighter and brighter.
The priests continued chanting, their voices growing increasingly urgent.
Zhao Xing glanced back. The lines of people stretching out of the nine gates had almost no end in sight.
"This was the most primitive form of sacrifice," Ming Li's voice rang out in Zhao Xing's mind.