Amid the awe-inspiring spectacle of the enormous and stunning Qingluan hovering over the competition field with its magnificent wings spread wide, everyone gazed upward in admiration.
Just as the collective attention was fixed on the Qingluan, a figure descended from its back.
It was a man. His features were sharp and angular, and his demeanor exuded an icy coldness, akin to the biting winds at the summit of the sky or the frigid snows of the polar regions—cold and distant, unlike any mortal.
If Nangong Qingle appeared cold and indifferent, this man truly seemed to hold disdain for everything in the world.
As the people from other empires observed the man, all those within the Tianqi Empire’s competition field rose and saluted him, declaring, “Meet the High Priest.”
The High Priest? Huang Quan blinked, recalling Qin Qin’s mention of a figure capable of predicting celestial events. The High Priest?
Observing this, the representatives from other empires withdrew their impolite gazes, and an air of solemnity settled over the assembly.
The High Priest, a figure believed to predict heavenly events!
However, scepticism lingered among some. This information came from the Tianqi Empire, and even if the High Priest possessed extraordinary abilities, there were always sceptics willing to deliberately stir trouble.
“High Priest!”
After the collective salute, a man abruptly stood up, fixing his gaze on the descending figure and loudly proclaimed, “I’ve heard that you can predict the outcomes of this competition. Can you foresee who will take first place?”
“Don’t be impudent!”
Witnessing the man’s rudeness, a member of the imperial royal family stood up, sternly reprimanding, “The High Priest’s foresight pertains to celestial matters, not human affairs!”
Undeterred, the man chuckled and retorted, “If one can’t predict human affairs, how can they predict celestial matters? I’ve long heard of the High Priest of the Tianqi Empire and always wished to meet him. I implore the High Priest to fulfil my humble desire.”
“We wait.”
Not a person, but an anticipation that lingered in the air. In the Tianqi Empire, reverence and fear were reserved for the high priest, a sentiment not necessarily shared by those in other empires. Unfazed by a provocation, a man merely cast an indifferent glance and spoke, “If my words hold, does this game still warrant competition?” The instigator was about to retort when a cold, melodic voice intervened, asking, “Many gambling houses in the imperial capital have placed bets on this competition. I can be candid, but can you compensate for their losses?” The word “compensate” distorted the man’s expression momentarily.
As the most formidable empire, the Tianqi Empire boasted a robust economy, a formidable military, and countless affluent individuals. The stakes they laid must be exorbitant. In this market, losing once was tolerable, but losing everything meant irrevocable ruin.
“If you can’t meet the compensation, spare your words,” the high priest declared before returning to his seat with an air of indifference. The thwarted troublemaker sat down angrily, silent.
The high priest took his place, leaving an empty seat in front of him. The unspoken question echoed — who would dare arrive later than the high priest? Were the rumors true? Would Prince Diqin make an appearance?
No one dared to voice the question. The high priest, akin to the moon, commanded admiration. Prince Diqin, on the other hand, was the scorching sun, too brilliant to gaze upon directly.
A sudden drumbeat resounded, prompting all eyes to turn towards a newcomer. The revelation left everyone in shock, and curiosity transformed into awe.
