For a moment, he seemed to see his father king's head morph into the shape of an azure dragon, with golden whiskers dancing as it emitted a heaven-shaking roar towards the sky.
Such a vision filled King Jing with inexplicable terror, and he couldn't help but speculate about the realm to which his father had cultivated.
Just as he was about to be overwhelmed, the Millennium Emperor, seated atop the grand hall, spoke, and the immense pressure melted away like ice and snow in an instant.
"Elder son, you're already four hundred and seventy-two years old this year, aren't you?" the Millennium Emperor said to King Jing with a smile.
"Indeed, Father's words are absolutely accurate."
Looking at the smiling Millennium Emperor, King Jing could not recall the last time his father had smiled at him; he felt a moment of trepidation, mixed with a touch of sadness.
In recent years, he had been walking on thin ice, living a life of exhaustion.
