Chang Feng heard his ancestor's words and found nothing strange in them. Instead, his face immediately lit up with joy.
In his view, his failure in the Dao contest had brought shame upon the clan and squandered his ancestor's favor. If he received no punishment, that would only prove that his ancestor had been utterly disappointed in him, leaving no affection between them to speak of.
But if his ancestor was willing to punish him, it meant that Chang Feng still held a place in his ancestor's heart!
Without hesitation, Chang Feng knocked his head against the ground and answered:
"This junior is willing! Even if it means three blades and six holes, boiling oil and stone mills, Chang Feng is willing to accept punishment. I only beg Ancestor to show this junior mercy."
After his words fell, the palace remained silent for several breaths. No one answered.
Yet the tightly shut gates of the Dao palace rumbled and slowly opened, revealing the majestic, resplendent scene within.
Greatly relieved, Chang Feng immediately bowed again. Only then did he rise, hunching his back as he hurried into the palace with small, quick steps.
The instant he entered, the Dao palace gates behind him closed.
The sound was not loud, yet for some reason it made Chang Feng's spirit tremble.
He then raised his head toward where his ancestor was, but he could see nothing at all. Only a surge of golden light rushed toward him, enveloping his entire body.
Chang Feng hesitated, an ominous feeling growing all the stranger in his heart.
He forced himself to speak. "Ancestor... what punishment must this disciple receive?"
Buzz, buzz!
As he spoke, Chang Feng felt the golden light wriggle like tentacles and enter through his seven apertures, coursing back and forth through his body.