The king of the seven archangels scrutinized the ruined temple, his gaze finally settling on the figure sitting cross-legged on the cushion below the altar.
He spoke no further, but each of them found a relatively intact cushion and slowly took their seats.
The act of sitting down and the way they looked at Lu Yan involuntarily carried an indescribable gravity.
This pressure, emanating from the surrounding environment and the intangible aura of immortality, was something those splendid, majestic, and sacred palaces could never achieve.
Sitting calmly below the altar, as if naturally in the central position, Lu Yan slowly lifted his eyes after the seven archangel kings were seated, and spoke in a resonant voice:
"Those who are present here have been guided by the only ones awakening in this world. Since that is the case, there is no need for pretenses."
Pausing slightly, a curve appeared at the corner of Lu Yan's mouth, displaying a perfectly arrogant smile:
