Everyone looked up at the figure shrouded in a golden torrent atop the Heaven-Worshipping Platform.
The golden light was dazzling, yet no one could bear to look away.
The imperial guards held their blades aloft, forgetting to strike.
The Attendants formed hand seals, forgetting to unleash them.
Even the cultivators who had fallen from midair and lay groaning on the ground forgot to cry out in pain.
The three patriarchs froze in midair, their expressions already beyond words.
Ye Fu froze too.
As a Mahayana Stage cultivator, she understood better than anyone what this scene meant.
Manifestations of national fortune, the wish power of the masses-these things had only ever acknowledged the imperial clan, only the person seated on the Dragon Throne.
But now...
These golden lights were happily circling her son.
Chen'er?
She suddenly remembered many years ago, when Chen'er had just been born.
Back then, he had been a little bundle of flesh, lying quietly in his swaddling clothes, neither crying nor fussing, simply gazing at the ceiling with those clear eyes.
She had even joked with her husband that the child was so quiet, he might grow up too meek.
Her husband, Si Kai, had only smiled and said being quiet was good; it saved them worry.
Thinking about it now...
How was this meekness?
This was clearly...
Watching that figure atop the Heaven-Worshipping Platform, Ye Fu could not help the slight upward curve of her lips.
You little rascal.
You've really made your mother proud.
In the distance.
The imperial guards, commanders, and officials who had been flung away and were still conscious-all of them stared blankly.
The blade in a young commander's hand fell to the ground with a clang.
He did not pick it up.
He simply stared at the Heaven-Worshipping Platform, his