The sight that truly took Xi Yan's breath away was a young monk standing in the center.
The other's fair and delicate skin radiated a jade-like aura, and Sanskrit woven in gold threads on his hundred-patch robe wandered like living creatures, as if sun, moon, and stars alternated on its sleeves!
"Full alert—"
Xi Yan decisively issued the command loudly.
As soon as he finished speaking, suddenly, sandalwood incense billowed into existence out of nowhere, and the citizens who had been noisy by the city gate stood still as if struck by thunder.
The eldest woman was the first to kneel, her white hair moving with no wind, her wrinkled forehead knocking heavily against the dirt; followed by the woman holding a baby, and the Martial Artists of the world bearing swords on their backs...
In the blink of an eye, hundreds of kneeling bodies undulated like waves of wheat, their foreheads hitting the ground in a muffled rhythm, akin to the continuous beating of a wooden fish in a temple.
