The vermilion pillars of the side hall were caked in dust, and the gold paint on the paneled ceiling was flaking off, making the stone tablet beneath the red cloth stand out all the more sharply.
Pi Yanlin shrank back among the courtiers in the third row, the sole of his boot grinding against a loose brick. The corner of his eye swept toward the white-robed figure on the steps—the White-Robe Envoy, leader of the Holy Monarch Cult remnants, was clutching a strip of yellow silk, his knuckles white.
"The mandate of heaven is returned, the Holy Monarch shall rise—"
Chapter 120