Zhao Changhe felt slightly aggrieved. His understanding of the Four Idols Cult’s doctrine was only surface-deep. He had not read a single word from the sea of sacred texts and teachings that the cult had. By strict standards, he really did not deserve to be considered even a novice member, much less the very god of the cult. When his wives discussed matters of doctrine, he often found himself with nothing to contribute, so naturally, his mind turned toward figuring out his role in the upcoming ceremony.0

He could not just sit there while Vermillion Bird and the others dryly introduced him to the cult as the Night Emperor.0

When he successfully forged the sword earlier, many cult members had witnessed it, and their awe was evident. However, that moment was not part of the formal ceremony. During the ritual itself, he would need to display some kind of miracle to avoid any awkwardness.0

There were generally two types of miracles. The first was more abstract—using his newly-forged River of Stars to resonate with the stars in the sky, causing them to shimmer and blink as if responding to his call. It was similar to when he had presented Sisi before the Spirit Tribe and the apparitions of myriad spirit beasts appeared, prompting their devotion.0

But such tricks could easily be dismissed by the more discerning onlookers. Among the cult’s Twenty-Eight Mansions were many top-tier experts, some even ranked on the Ranking of Man. For them, mere illusions would not suffice.0

Zhao Changhe gazed into the roaring forge, considering his options. If he wanted to...0