The voice was steady and forceful, reaching straight into the hearts of every black-robed cultist and leaving them all dumbfounded.
Seeing their reactions, Zhang Yuan flew through the window into the room and slowly descended.
The black-robed cultists in the room instantly rose and retreated two steps, their eyes beneath their robes fixed on Zhang Yuan in doubt and alarm.
"The Holy Son?!"
"Impossible!"
"Do not let him fool you! The Holy Son already died in Heaven-Reaching City, sacrificing himself for our Lord! This man must be an impostor!"
"That's right! The Holy Son is dead! Who exactly are you?!"
After a brief moment of astonishment, some began questioning Zhang Yuan's identity.
Zhang Yuan raised his brows slightly and said indifferently, "I died? Heh, I have no idea where that rumor came from, but it matters little. Since I am here, I am plainly not dead. Upon seeing me, all you need do is bow in reverence."
Such arrogance...
Their expressions shifted slightly.
Zhang Yuan paid no attention to their reactions. He walked straight to the seat of honor in the center and sat down. With a movement of his hand, he used the Xin Metal Conceptual Image within his Dao Domain to fashion a bronze wine cup, poured himself some wine, then lifted it into the shadows of his hood and pretended to savor a sip.
Although he normally kept a low profile, after spending so much time with Xiao Yuanjun, tossing out a line or two of arrogant bluster was child's play.
"Holy Son Yu, is this man truly His Holiness?" one black-robed cultist asked someone in the room in a hushed voice.
The other black-robed cultists also turned toward that man, awaiting this "Holy Son Yu's" answer.
"Holy Son Yu?"
Zhang Yuan raised his brows slightly and