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On the dais, upon a jade throne.
The Ghost King sat upright.
No radiance surrounded him, yet every ray of light passing near his body bent almost imperceptibly.
He spoke. His voice was not loud, yet it sounded like a millstone grinding over rough bluestone slabs, gouging furrows into the solidified space. "Chen Hong, that little girl of yours has nailed my Infinite Hall to the pillar of shame."
Chen Hong felt a faint ache at the roots of his teeth.
The man before him had lived a full 150 years and had a tangled history of old grudges with his grandmaster, Zhang Xiaofan.
He could only squeeze out a polite smile and lower his voice. "Senior Ghost King, that's putting it too strongly... this really was an accident. Xiao Yi truly was the only one on the team still able to fight... it was a coincidence."
The Ghost King raised his eyelids slightly. His gaze, deep as an abyss of the underworld, swept across Chen Hong's face without anger or pleasure. "I have always judged matters by their outcome. Since I suffered a defeat today, I shall accept my fate."
His words were level, without any clamorous fury.
Nearby, the eyes of titled Excellencies such as Yu Yongyuan and Long Jing'an shifted slightly. They found more reasons to lift their tea or straighten their clothes.
Accept his fate? That was what he said, but everyone who had reached this level understood-the officials had indeed arranged the schedule, intending to let a powerful team like Infinite Hall squeeze Chang'an, that "soft persimmon." Who could have expected this outcome? One person had crushed seven. The Ghost King had lost far too much face.
Prince Xue Jiqing still wore