"Bow!"
In front of the altar, Fang Yuan led Wei and the other slaves to pray.
The deities they prayed to were faceless and there was no need for idols or statues.
Fang Yuan's actions were systematic and well rehearsed, but his mind was going wild.
"Huff!"
A flash of fire flew up into the skies, and there was a gentle breeze.
This was the precise time when the afternoon light gave way to dusk. Just as the ceremony ended, Fang Yuan squinted towards the south and was slightly moved.
'It seems like something has changed!"
"Yuan, look!"
Wei tugged at his wrist and shook it.
"The sky…"
"Hmm?"
Fang Yuan raised his head and saw a clump of red clouds. They looked like a fantasy and were beautiful. It seemed as though they were about to fall.
"The heavens have acknowledged our offerings!"
The master of ceremonies' face was flushed, and he roared.
"This is our tribe's honour!"
