Jiang Ziya was pinned on the spot by the death-still stares of the entire army, his expression instantly turning unbearably ugly, blue and white mingling across his face, flushing red one moment and pale the next.
Countless gazes pressed down on him like a heavy weight—the doubts of Xiqi's soldiers, the scrutiny of Great Shang's troops, the silent questioning of all living beings beneath heaven and earth—all of it landed on him.
Endless turmoil churned in his heart. His face burned hot with embarrassment, yet the bottom of his heart was dark and ice-cold.
Everyone in the world thought he wielded the great authority to campaign against Shang, held the military power of the feudal lords in his hand, stood high in rank and weight, glorious beyond measure.
But only Jiang Ziya himself knew that this Mortal World authority, these mortal achievements, the rise and fall of the myriad people, were all floating dust to him.
What he had always longed for deep in his heart were the years of seeking immortality amid the clear skies and seas of cloud of Kunlun Mountain, with pine winds and cranes calling.
Compared to the chaotic, filthy Mortal World among men, he missed beyond measure those carefree days of the past, sitting quietly on Kunlun Mountain, comprehending the Dao and studying the profound, free of ties and burdens.
Mortal rights and wrongs, the great righteousness of the human race, the correctness or fault of the common people—he had long since had no heart to probe them deeply. At this moment, only one Obsession remained in his heart—to complete the great undertaking of God Conferment.
As long as he thoroughly pacified Shang Tang, finished this chess game of the Measure Tribulation, and perfectly fulfilled the charge entrusted to him by Primordial Heavenly Venerate, he