High above, however, the Heavenly Court presented an entirely different scene. Inside the Hall of Miraculous Mist, the atmosphere was oppressively heavy, as if an invisible, giant boulder weighed upon everyone's hearts. Haotian sat upright upon his throne, which was crafted from precious celestial jade and emitted a cool radiance, yet it failed to dispel the gloom in his heart. His brows were tightly locked, the wrinkles on his forehead as deep as ravines; his face was fraught with sorrow, and his eyes betrayed a profound sense of helplessness and exhaustion. Beside him, Yaochi wore resplendent attire embedded with countless dazzling gemstones that each sparkled brilliantly, but her expression was equally grim, her eyes filled with anxiety.
"Whatever shall we do?" Haotian heaved a long sigh laden with helplessness, the sound seeming to pierce through layers of halls and echo far away. "I have painstakingly managed the Heavenly Court for many years, and though things have improved somewhat, the disciples under those Sages simply do not take the Heavenly Court seriously." His voice was low and hoarse, as if the vicissitudes of time had left their mark in his throat.
Yaochi stepped forward lightly, her pace as graceful and fluid as an immortal descending to the mortal realm. She said in a soft voice, "Your Majesty, do not worry so. Let us think of a solution." Her tone was as gentle and warm as a spring breeze, attempting to soothe Haotian's anxious state of affairs.
Chapter 190