The night air was cool, and because of Zong Shaoqing's words, it felt even colder.
Under the looming city walls, sharp wooden stakes were bundled together to form deer antlers to fend off night raids from dark beasts and enemy troops.
Hanging from the antlers were dried beast skins, bloodied flesh, and shattered battle armor, symbolizing the brutality of war.
"Born from war," these words out of the mouth of a Divine Son from the Divine Court felt out of place. Yue Jinghua paused, taking a closer look at Zong Shaoqing's expression. His eyes at this moment were as deep and unfathomable as the night sky.
Tonight, Zong Shaoqing seemed somewhat unusual.
"The Divine Court was initially established to bless the spirits of the dead in war. Frankly, I'm nothing but a God Stick Head," said Zong Shaoqing with a wry smile.
Even Zong Shaoqing himself hadn't realized that he smiled more after Yue Jinghua's appearance than he had in the past two decades combined.
