"I now act under the Heavenly Dao's decree."
Ignoring everyone, Lin Tian began the Investiture of the Gods directly. Every true spirit whose name he called was guided onto the Investiture of the Gods Altar by Jiang Ziya waving the Hundred-Spirit Banner. Only after receiving their appointments could they become gods and ascend to heaven.
Under the combined deterrence of a Heavenly Dao Saint and the God-Striking Whip, not a single true spirit dared act out in the slightest. As though resigned to their fate, they obediently accepted their divine appointments and departed. Even Guang Chengzi and the others from the Chan Sect were no exception.
Watching his disciples kneel before Lin Tian, Primordial Heavenly Venerable's expression turned as ugly as it could possibly be.
But with the Dao Ancestor's command hanging over him, he would not have dared forcibly rescue those disciples even if someone had lent him another measure of courage. He could only watch helplessly as the Investiture of the Gods reached its successful conclusion.
"Forget it. This must be their destined fate. There is no forcing this matter."
After a long sigh, Primordial Heavenly Venerable withdrew his gaze, unwilling to watch his disciples' fate any longer.
The Twelve Immortals of Chan were tied to the Chan Sect's fortune. Every one of them was an outstanding disciple he had painstakingly nurtured.
Yet a single Investiture of the Gods Calamity had cost him more than half his disciples. Anyone would have been disheartened.
Fortunately, more than half of my Chan Sect disciples still remain. As long as I plan patiently, the day may yet come when we turn things around.
Only with that thought did Primordial Heavenly Venerable feel a little better.
For some reason, however, an inexplicable tension lingered, as though something momentous was about to happen.