Kyrian returned to the same high branch of the Ancestral Tree with a light and silent leap, as if he had never descended. He sat down again, his legs swaying casually in the empty air, the gentle wind slightly tousling his black hair. His expression remained calm, almost bored, as if the bloody massacre happening dozens of meters below him was merely background noise.
Outside, on the Central Plateau, the audience's reaction was like a bucket of cold water thrown over a crowd in flames.
The enthusiasm that had exploded when Kyrian descended died almost instantly. Thousands of cultivators who had been standing, shouting, and cheering sat back down with expressions of frustration and discouragement.
"Heh… I thought I'd finally see him fight, but he just came down to say hi to his friends and went back to standing still." Grumbled a young disciple from a lesser domain, crossing his arms with a disappointed look.
"That's true." Another beside him agreed.
