The cleverness of the High Shaman's words lay in how, from beginning to end, he had not uttered a single word against Wang Yang or questioned his identity. Instead, he had taken the stance of defending the Divine Envoy and honoring King Pan. This spared him from challenging Wang Yang's authority and drawing fire upon himself, while giving him a perfectly legitimate reason to raise the question of the envoy's authenticity. The Junior Ritualist had no way to refute him and could only say reluctantly:
"What the Ritual Master says is true, but the Sacred Assembly-"
The High Shaman smiled faintly:
"Rest assured. I dreamed of it all."
Those few words fell like a pebble into a lake, sending ripples through the crowd. Many of the tribespeople looked enlightened. So there had already been an omen of today's events! No wonder the High Shaman had emerged from the Ritual Cave to say these things. This was the arrangement of fate!
The Junior Ritualist froze as well. The High Shaman often dreamed of things that had yet to happen. Since he had dreamed of all this, what use was there in trying to stop him? Was today's interruption of the Sacred Assembly inevitable, then? What else had happened afterward? The Junior Ritualist wanted to ask, but feared the High Shaman might seize the opportunity to stir up more trouble. At a loss, he could only turn to Wang Yang.
The High Shaman paid the Junior Ritualist no further attention. At a beckoning gesture, three assistant shamans stepped forward carrying three long cases of ancient wood and raised them high.
The wooden cases were dark and dull, their surfaces carved with ancient patterns no one could recognize anymore. The moment they appeared, they drew every eye.
The High Shaman declared in a