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Good fortune could be called god, its hidden trail a ghost.
Yu The Great wore a magnificent long robe as she walked onto the tall ceremonial altar. All of the citizens of the Ji Tribe followed respectfully behind her, and the tribe’s elders flanked her, offering counsel.
“King Yu, reconsider.”
“King Yu, you must not perform this ceremony so flippantly.”
“King Yu, rescind your decree.”
Even Bo Yi showed a bit of worry.
The prayer ceremony was an important ritual for the head of a Great Shaman tribe. The target of the prayer was supposed to occupy a significant position, and generally speaking, the elders of the tribe would use it to bless the chief. This type of ceremony gathered the tribe’s fortune and imbued it into the chief, multiplying their magical energy several times and increasing their Realm. They had never heard of the tribe’s chief blessing an ordinary cultivator. Should such a thing be done, then that would indicate this elder brother was not so simple; this was completely placing that cultivator in a position above that of the chief.
Yu The Great gently smiled, as if this was normal. Her smile was kindly an amiable, yet they could not refuse her.
“The Northern Primordial tribes are all powerless to slay the Fuzhu. If Elder Brother fails at the final stretch, then the tribe will no longer exist either. Compared to the title of chief, just which one is more important?”
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