Feng Yi had never listened to such things before, nor had he ever gone to temples to specifically listen to the monks chanting scriptures.
Yet these chanting sounds seemed to awaken memories from a long time ago. It wasn't necessarily the same scriptures, but the feeling they evoked was similar.
These weren't Feng Yi's own memories, but rather the memories passed down in the DNA he had inherited from his ancestors. They were not clear, that kind of blurry, vague feeling.
He didn't know which ancestor, or ancestors, had listened to the monks chant scriptures.
With a thought, Feng Yi closed his eyes, to prevent others from noticing any changes in them.
Not everyone in the clan procession at this moment could accept the chanting. For example, Feng Cheng, who had traveled all the way from the other end of the continental plate to Yang City, came not only to sign in for his father but also preoccupied with the headquarters of the Ancestral Factory.
