In a temple, An Yang met Marshal Tian Peng.
At that moment, Marshal Tian Peng sat before a tea table laden with fine wine and fresh fruit. He lowered his head politely, while seated above him was an old man dressed in a red-and-green robe. Behind the old man stood two handsome, spiritually radiant youths on either side. White clouds swirled around them, and the faint sound of thunder could be heard.
An Yang knew at a glance that the old man was extraordinary.
He possessed neither the oppressive presence that made souls prostrate themselves, nor the ethereal serenity of Victorious Fighting Buddha, nor the terror brought by Eternal Life Great Emperor. Yet he had an aura that inspired awe, along with an imperial majesty that neither Victorious Fighting Buddha nor Eternal Life Great Emperor possessed.
An Yang drew a deep breath. He had once been an emperor himself, but in terms of either power or divine strength, he was clearly inferior to this old man. This person was probably on the same level as Great Emperor Qinghua of the East Pole!
Thinking this, he stopped in the center of the tent. He first glanced at Marshal Tian Peng, who was willingly seated below, then immediately cupped his hands and said, "This disciple pays respects to the Marshal and the Venerable."
The old man seated above looked over. There was no other emotion in his eyes—not even scrutiny—yet An Yang felt as though he had been struck through by lightning, and his entire body grew numb. From this alone, he could determine that the old man was absolutely an immortal deity at the Celestial Venerable level.
Sure enough, Marshal Tian Peng nodded. "You're here? You certainly have a keen eye! Let's do it again. Pay your respects to Great Emperor