The square before the Heaven-Worshipping Altar suddenly fell deathly silent.
It was like when a study hall was in an uproar and everyone suddenly spotted the homeroom teacher outside the window. The emperor and civil and military officials all shut their mouths in unison. No one cried, no one made a fuss, no one laughed; even their breathing was reduced to the faintest whisper.
Stealing glances from the corners of their eyes, they saw the Immortal's eyes glowing crimson as he slung an arm around the ritual official's shoulders and chatted with him. Looking as though his soul had fled, the official answered every question put to him. He was like a puppet on strings, utterly devoid of self.
The scene was too horrifying. It seemed that perhaps, possibly, maybe this was not a particularly good immortal.
Had they opened the wrong door, or invited the wrong god?
The Great Zhou court also had cultivators. Restricted by the laws of heaven and earth in the Heavy Court Realm, their upper limit was at the peak of Spirit Transformation; they could not even find a single master of the Nether Passage Realm. But Xiang Yuan's method of forcibly baring one's heart required no great cultivation. Even ordinary people could tell something was wrong.
Evil!
Where was the immortal air and sage-like bearing they had been promised? Where were the lofty virtue, revered prestige, and solemn divine countenance? Why did this Immortal give off a... er, tyrannical sense of having wisdom and courage in both fists?
Had the historical records gotten it wrong, or had the court historians embellished things too much?
Everyone remained silent as cicadas in winter, not daring to utter a word.
At the same time, they were incomparably thankful that they had not foolishly rushed to the front