Ziwei Immortal Court.
Immortal mist lingers, auspicious air stretches in thousands.
Seated atop the Nine-layered Emperor's Throne, Emperor Ziwei lightly taps his fingers on the armrest, emitting a rhythmic soft sound, listening to his ministers' reports.
Suddenly, the tapping sound abruptly stops.
An indescribable icy aura, without warning, spreads from the throne.
The Immortal Court, which was harmonious a moment ago, suddenly drops in temperature, as if the void is frozen, even the flowing Immortal Light becomes stagnant.
The ministers feel their Divine Soul tighten as if gripped by an invisible giant hand. Those with weaker cultivation turn pale, almost kneeling.
Emperor Ziwei's expression turns slightly cold, the galaxy scene in his eyes instantly transforms into a frozen silence.
