"""
"Woo! Woo woo!!"
That day, the resonant blast of the horn suddenly erupted.
In Without-Sun City, the ground shook, mountains quaked, and dust clouds billowed.
Bizarre carriages arrived in quick succession, people’s heartbeats thundered like drums, either stunned into silence or visibly shaken, not understanding what had happened.
To reside in this city—ironclad rules were always stringent, bound by countless constraints.
Yet these carriages disregarded all laws, treading the skies, sprinting with abandon, their arrogant and domineering presence coalescing into a hurricane torrent.
More unbelievably, the guards on both sides of the streets all leapt off the backs of their Contracted Spirit Fond Spirits.
They knelt on one knee, fists to chest, faces flushed with excitent, unable to contain their inner turmoil.
Even as the carriages vanished into the horizon’s end, with the formidable presence of high-ranking beings spilling into the wind, they still knelt, motionless.
On the streets—silence ensued in an instant.
People gazed towards the city center beyond the outer city with reverence; elders heaved sighs of lant, the strong-hearted felt disheartened, the young looked on with envy, and the children were lost in confusion.
"A change of era is upon us..."
"The Tomb of Asura, has just closed."
"Rumors have it, Mr. Ye, the Young King, Ye Hanjun, ascends to occupy the Junior Emperor’s throne, seeking to break through."
"Should he succeed, following the clan’s legacy, becoming a candidate for Clan Leader, he will rise like a dragon, destined for great accomplishnts."
A wizened old man as lifeless as deadwood stood at a street corner.
He paused contemplatively, lanting sentintally:
"But, should he fail..."
"The Ye Clan will lose a glimr of dawn, extinguishing a sliver of hope."
"Just as everyone is in a state of unrest, we can only sit idly, waiting to see how the final outco unfolds..."
"Grandpa! Grandpa!"
A child scarcely half an adult’s height, tugged at the old man’s sleeve, asking in his immature voice:
"The Junior Emperor will surely succeed, right?"
"People with ’Ye’ as their surna are invincible, unbeatable! In the future, I’ll beco soone like that too, to protect grandpa and guard our tribe!"
"Let us hope so."
The elder patted the child’s head, smiling benevolently.
But zoom in closer, and one would see his hollow eyes betray him with a trace of bitter laughter, void of optimism.
...
Amidst the undercurrents, hundreds of carriages reached the central altar.
As mbers of the royal clan alighted, their uniform black family garbs devoured the light, conveying coldness, cruelty, eeriness, and silence—a life force magnetic field stretching out like the sea, forming an extraordinary vista.
As another group of Supre Saints—be they true bodies or avatars—all gathered near the twenty-four towering stone pillars.
Earlier on, those guardian spirits who had been sowhat critical of Ye Hanjun, such as the snake-haired demoness and the eagle-bodied demoness, now cowered with hunched back and silent lips as if in hiding.
"Da... da... da..."
Ye Hanjun walked steadily through the crowd.
His firm step was like a stamp on people’s hearts, with waves of unwavering belief and a lofty sense of mission radiating outwards continuously.
Finally, in the unspeakable solemnity and silence, Ye Hanjun stood at the central point surrounded by the twenty-four towering stone pillars.
He glanced at the ground, where once a saint known as "Ye Yanhuo" had retired to the western heavens amid endless glory.
Was it now his turn?
After today, the forbidden world Law/Principle would either remain stable as before or shatter into pieces, with no third option.
Harboring such thoughts, Ye Hanjun located Ye Ying’s position and spoke calmly:
"Allow to establish the foundational defenses, make preparations."
Ye Ying remained unmoved, responding in an even flatter tone:
"Success, the sky’s the limit."
"Failure, left with nothing."
"Today, all eyes shall stay on you."
"You have plenty of ti, we’ll wait for you."
"Whirl..."
A gust of wind blew, the flapping black robes sounding like a requiem from heaven.
Ye Qiyu, Ye Mochou, Ye Nishang, Ye Wen Fei, the four imperials, stood as if lifelike statues, firmly unyielding.
Black Martial King, Shadow Dragon King, Lord of the Dead, Electrical Scissors Centipede, Corpse Demon King, Thundering Cannon Chariot, Wooden Guardian Leek... Guardian spirits were scattered like stars, so mighty and imposing, so petite and exquisite, so vibrant with life, so emanating deathly auras—countless expressions, myriad mindsets, no amount of words could exhaust their stories.
Ye Hanjun summoned his Contracted Spirit Fond Spirits.
Formation after formation opened; Aegifura, Mo, Absolute String, Huazhu, Goose Immortal, GuaGua, lined up neatly three on the left and three on the right.
With two "swoosh" sounds, a streak of white light jumped onto his shoulder, and another hugged his leg.
"Big tadpole, this day has finally co!"
"I, GuaGua, shall do my utmost! No matter what, we must overco this ordeal and not let Tiandao look down on us!"
GuaGua, clawing at his fiery red sword-like hair, declared with overwhelming fervor.
Mo, in turn, reacted adorably clumsily.
It clung to Ye Hanjun’s ankle as always, like an unshakeable sidekick, chirping "no pain, no pain."
When its bloodshot eyes saw the blue electric eyes above, it seed to sense sothing and quickly shut its mouth, its face full of anticipation.
"Ting—"
Absolute String plucked the strings, playing to its own rhythm.
Goose Immortal bared a manic grin, its tallic wingtips pointed to the sky, filled with grand statents and great aspirations, eager for the long-awaited mont.
"Add years."
Ye Hanjun gripped the judge’s brush, sketched strokes that shattered the void.
A cluster of purple and yellow nether fires of life lit up, igniting each of the Contracted Spirit Fond Spirits save for GuaGua.
"Fight! Fight with gusto!"
Goose Immortal’s laughter grew even more haughty as its blood-red fighting spirit expanded even further afield.
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