The Sacred Emperor, a mighty figure who had fallen five hundred years ago, had now appeared in his dream?
This sent a wave of unease through Yang Qing's heart.
Looking at the imposing, heroic man before him, Yang Qing could barely tell whether this was a dream or reality.
Compared with the somewhat bewildered Yang Qing, the masked man opposite him simply took another two steps toward him.
"I truly never imagined that you would come this far through your own strength alone."
Because the man wore a mask, his words carried a muffled, buzzing resonance.
Whether because Yang Qing was dreaming or because he was imagining things, he kept feeling that the man before him seemed faintly weak.
Yet the man standing before Yang Qing clearly exuded an imposing presence.
Yang Qing was certain his eyes were not deceiving him. Even in this dream, he could distinctly feel that his mind was clear.
By contrast, this legendary Sacred Emperor before him seemed to be in rather poor shape.
After speaking those words, his whole figure seemed to waver, as though a gust of wind could blow him away.
However, that impression lasted only a brief moment. When Yang Qing looked closely again, he felt as though his eyes had merely played tricks on him.
"Please enlighten me, Sacred Emperor." Yang Qing bowed to him.
Fortunately, this was a dream, so Yang Qing did not bother with too many formalities. A simple bow would suffice.
After all, this was someone separated from him by five hundred years. However formidable the rumors made him out to be, they were only rumors.
"Why are you not afraid of me? Why do you lack even the most basic reverence?"
Emperor Zhetian looked at Yang Qing, whose frame was noticeably slighter than his own.