The Steel Claw Tribe had never come into contact with the Protectorate Office, but in the battle sixty years ago, the Ancient Blood Sun Kingdom, revived beneath the Turbid Tide, had been forcibly buried back down by the Eastern Protectorate.
That battle's impact had been far-reaching. Not only had it changed the Protectorate Office's entire structure, but the native tribes north of Peace Mountain had also been deeply shaken.
Thus, even barbarians living deep inland who had never been west of Peace Mountain had heard the two words "Celestial Xia."
After Mystic Cultivators mastered the "Heartlight Seal," the nearly divine radiance around them, along with all manner of abilities beyond mortal reach, had always made the natives regard them as gods.
Yet a cultivator's Heartlight Seal differed from the rainbow-like spiritual glows. It possessed a unique purity and brilliance, making it easy for the natives to distinguish them from Strange Gods.
Zhang Yu rode forward, raised the sword in his hand toward the barbarians near the fence, then lowered it again. It was a gesture of goodwill.
At once, the native guards standing ahead lowered their guard. One by one, they bent at the waist, showing him reverence and welcome.
Zhang Yu didn't enter the camp. Instead, he spoke a string of strange and complicated words outside the gate, words that sounded incomprehensible to Wu Shijiao and the others.
After a while, an aged priest with a face full of wrinkles emerged from within. He wore a feathered crown, dressed in cowhide, and held a bone spear adorned with feathers and leaf-strips. Though old, his muscles were full and his spirit vigorous.
Zhang Yu remained on horseback and exchanged a few words with him. The old priest was exceedingly courteous and respectful, nodding repeatedly. He cautiously glanced at Su Zhu,