Clang.
A palace maid, gently striking a jade bell outside the great hall, made a sound.
"Enter!"
"Announcing, Citong Port Overseer, Great Dao Teaching Daoist Zhang Ying requesting an audience."
One announcent after another relayed into the distance.
On the wide and lengthy main audience path.
Zhang Rongfang changed into a white Daoist robe, wearing a silver heart coronet, hastily crossed the five-hundred-ter-long main path under the guidance of palace maids and eunuchs, heading towards the gradually opening gates of Shangde Hall.
He looked ahead, his expression calm and natural, gazing at the Shangde Hall.
The entire Shangde Hall stood at least a hundred ters tall, like an open book placed among the palaces.
The palace was entirely white, with spotless white walls and no carvings.
Only at the very top, in the center, was there a giant golden vertical pupil overlooking everything.
That was the symbol of the supre deity within the Spiritual Teaching—the Eye of Heaven.
It was also the Eye of the Spirit Flying Heaven.
Passing through the main path surrounded by high walls, entering the gates, was the wide Shangde Hall, over thirty ters long and more than twenty ters wide.
On both sides of the great hall were two five-ter-tall white armored humanoid sculptures.
One held a long mace, the other a giant shield, wearing fierce masks, like door gods, flanking protectively.
From the crystal skylight above, beams of faintly colored light projected down.
These light beams ford a beautifully intricate dragon cloud pattern on the ground.
At the end of the hall, complexly patterned steps extended upwards, leading to a golden and white jade throne.
The throne was wide and towering, seated atop by an ordinarily built old man, neither fat nor thin, with white hair.
Zhang Rongfang looked up, seeing the old man dressed in imperial robes, wearing a dark gold crown with hanging tassels. His face was veiled by a dense amber bead curtain, obscuring his expression, preventing others from discerning his thoughts through observation.
Upon entering the gates, Zhang Rongfang imdiately felt a chill throughout his body.
An icy coldness had already perated his entire being.
It was not just a psychological chill, the temperature was truly cold.
The temperature in the great hall was likely only in single digits.
He lowered his head, hurried forward, stood in the audience area covered with a pure white carpet, then kneeled respectfully, performing a learned bowing ritual.
"Subject, Citong Port Overseer Zhang Ying, pays respects to Your Majesty."
The great hall seed to have so sort of sound amplification design. His voice, though at normal volu, was exceptionally clear, echoing throughout, with a slight resonance.
"Rise."
A deep, yet sowhat weak male voice slowly sounded.
"Yes."
Zhang Rongfang stood up, looked down, and remained still.
The Spirit Emperor said nothing, seemingly observing him.
According to protocol, if His Majesty did not speak, he could not speak either, only wait.
Apart from when he first entered, without the Emperor’s permission, he could not casually look around.
Ti passed little by little.
A full few minutes later.
The Spirit Emperor slowly spoke again.
"During Zhang’s tenure, the tax revenue from Citong increased by thirty percent over previous years. The chaotic atmosphere within Citong Port was swept away, with three more large fleets added.
These things I have seen. Very good." He sighed.
"Now my Great Spirit has authority across the land, unmatched. But to govern the world requires both martial prowess and cultural governance. Neither can be lacking."
"So, Zhang, regardless of any disputes you may have with the Western Sect, these are unimportant. What matters is that you have produced results!"
The Spirit Emperor’s tone was solemn.
"Where there are achievents, there must be rewards! Before you ca..... I had already decided to send you to Ze Province to serve as the magistrate of Zhuming Port. How about that?"
Ze Province??
Zhang Rongfang’s heart stirred. According to the information he received from Cheng Hui, Ze Province was currently unstable. The Zhenyi Sect and the Western Sect were fiercely clashing there.
The Celestial Maiden was also there, injured and now hidden, whereabouts unknown.
He couldn’t quite figure out the Spirit Emperor’s intentions.
But this was an appointnt, not a genuine inquiry into whether he wished to go.
"Subject thanks His Majesty for the imnse grace."
He imdiately expressed his gratitude.
"Not bad. Achieving such accomplishnts at a young age, daring to take responsibility, truly a pillar of my Great Spirit," the Spirit Emperor nodded in satisfaction.
He coughed lightly twice.
"Also, I’ve heard that due to your cultivation of literature in Citong, you’ve occasionally felt unwell. I grant you a Flying Spirit Feather Talisman, to wear often, to ensure your well-being, impervious to any external evil."
Soon, a palace maid holding a silver tray erged from a side door.
The maid quickly approached Zhang Rongfang, and on the tray, there was a pure white feather.
On the surface, it seed to be just a regular feather.
But upon closer inspection, one would notice the feather’s shaft intricately carved with countless dense silver symbols and letters.
And the feather’s barbs, when passing through the bright light beams, faintly showed a flash of silver sheen.
"Thank you, Your Majesty, for the reward!" Zhang Rongfang responded respectfully.
As the palace maid drew nearer.
Suddenly, he inexplicably felt a sense of horror surge within.
His heart tightened, beating faster, as if sothing extrely dangerous was gradually approaching nearby.
This feeling was indeed peculiar.
While an ordinary person might not perceive it.
But Zhang Rongfang’s body had long since surpassed normalcy, reaching a level capable of contending with a worshipped Grandmaster head-on.
With such prowess, even in a mortal body, he possessed acute perception and forewarning of environntal changes.
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