While Ji Hao was performing the blood-offering ceremony, Ji Xia, who had come from the Cold Stream Valley was not the only audience that had been watching this great ceremony from afar.
"Brother, aren't we a little shameless?" On a mountainside, very far away from the altar and the crowd, under the shades of dense branches and leaves, Di Luo was leaning against a camphor tree's branch, lazily picking a handful of tender leaves from the branch and threw it into his mouth, and started chewing. "Poor pretty lady, Jiang Yao, the Maguspriestess, her heart must be broken by now...she didn't get to see us launch the attack...aw, aw, she must be sobbing with a broken heart now!"
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