The uncertainty gnawed at Han Yu's heart, but there was nothing he could do.
For now, he had no choice but to remain silent and play his part.
The crowd began to settle as more cultivators arrived, filling every inch of the slope. The crimson light reflected in their eyes, giving their gazes a fanatical gleam. Murmurs spread briefly among them, but quickly died out as a single figure stepped forward near the summit.
It was one of the Dao Shell realm cultivators, his robe lined with shifting purple patterns that glimmered faintly under the light. He hovered a few feet above the ground, his hands clasped behind his back.
His presence drew every eye to him, and the ambient noise faded until the only sound left was the low hum of the beacon.
