The Eleventh Divine Patriarch….” The middle-aged man’s mouth and throat immediately went dry, and his heart began to thump. Ji Eleven was a name that outsiders didn’t know, the name of a person who was a member of a group of the most ancient members of the Ji Clan.
Any one of that group was an ancestor who the entire Ji Clan would prostrate in worship to.
“Sir… sir, I have never seen the Eleventh Divine Patriarch….” The man trembled; the seemingly imperceptible pressure coming from the owner of the ancient voice caused him to feel as if the entire world was about to fall apart.
“Very well,” said the voice, drifting about like a breeze around the middle-aged man. “I won’t cause too much trouble for you. Sit here and meditate for the time it takes an incense stick to burn. Then you may leave.” The voice was filled with somberness. It caused the middle-aged man’s face to instantly flicker. He hesitated for just a moment, then chose to sit down cross-legged.
The tenth Wang Clan Patriarch stood right in front of him, staring off into the black fog. However, the middle-aged man couldn’t see him at all.
“Child, I’ve already delayed this person for you,” he said softly to himself. “I’ve fixed your biggest problem for you. The rest of them are suppressed into the Core Formation, which means you still won’t be able to escape. That, in turn, means that even if I help you get away, you’ll still die on the outside. In that case, I may have no choice but to take your perfection away from you now.