The Ancestral Temple of Yin Shang

Di Xin froze mid-flight, his whole body trembling instinctively as the shadow of Wenzhong's harsh discipline from his childhood surged into his mind.

Suppressing the terror in his heart, he forcibly turned around and squeezed out a strained smile, feigning delighted surprise. "Teacher! You have finally returned! Those attendants are utterly useless—they failed to report your arrival in advance. I should have gone to the city gates myself to welcome Teacher home in triumph!"

Seeing Di Xin playing dumb, the chill in Wenzhong's eyes flared. He gave a cold snort, his voice icy. "No need. I ordered them not to report it."

As the words fell, his wrist jerked sharply.

Crack—!

A crisp blast rang out in the air. The King-Whipping Whip struck nothing at all, yet it sent the currents within the hall churning and made the beams tremble faintly.

Di Xin shuddered and instinctively stepped half a pace back, the fear in his heart growing ever stronger.

"Teacher, what... what is the meaning of this?" Di Xin forced himself to remain calm, though his tone carried a guilty note of probing.

Wenzhong could not be bothered to exchange empty pleasantries with him. His gaze swept over the attendants in the hall as he said solemnly, "All of you, withdraw. None may enter without summons. This Grand Preceptor has important matters to discuss with the King in private."

The attendants exchanged looks. Seeing Wenzhong's chilling presence and towering fury, none dared hesitate in the slightest. They all bowed and withdrew from the hall, tightly shutting its doors behind them.

The hall instantly fell deathly silent. Only ruler and minister remained, confronting each other beneath an atmosphere so oppressive it was hard to breathe.

Wenzhong's heavy gaze settled on Di Xin. Every word rang like iron, filled with disappointment and