Upon returning to Mount Qiantian City, with the general situation stabilized, riding a horse was no longer an option. In Zong Lan's words, it would be beneath his station.

Thus, the fourth-tier Wind-Riding Colt, snatched from Feng Yu, was discarded. In its place, a Dragon Carriage appeared, forged entirely of gold. It was inlaid with gemstones, shimmering brilliantly. In short, any material that looked luxurious was used. A full eighteen fourth-tier Dragon-Horned Winged Horses pulled it, truly displaying unparalleled grandeur and extravagance.

This was Zong Weiran's former carriage, appearing incomparably striking. Zong Shou, however, couldn't help but feel a degree of disdain for Zong Weiran's taste. It was a bit too nouveau riche.

But when he saw the citizens of Mount Qiantian surrounding them, their faces alight with aspiration and awe, some thoughtful, perhaps Zong Weiran's taste wasn't actually that low.

Most people of this era struggled desperately just to survive; how could they comprehend refinement?

Instead, this carriage, which in his eyes was utterly tacky, was far more effective at intimidating the populace.

And when Zong Shou, surrounded by tens of thousands of armored imperial guards marching in a grand procession, arrived at the summit of Mount Qiantian, Zong Shi and the others had already vanished. Messengers were dispatched everywhere, yet they could not locate any trace of these few individuals.

This outcome did not surprise Hu Qianqiu and the others. With the cosmic order settled, even if Zong Shi employed every scheme, he could not overturn the situation. If they remained now, they would only be waiting for death; anyone else would have fled immediately.

Zong Shou thought the same, yet he maintained a degree of caution in his heart. Since the Xue family had already intervened, deploying the Great Art of Misty Illusions to Confuse the Heart, it was possible they had also brought that 'Heart Illusion Mirror.' He was intimately familiar with this eighth-tier spiritual artifact specializing in illusion techniques.

If they intended to hide, they only needed to lie low and remain perfectly still.

In that case, unless it was a Martial Ancestor at the Celestial rank or a Spirit Master at the Day Roaming stage, they would be extremely difficult to detect.

At this moment, even though his spiritual power had reached the middle stage of the Night Roaming realm, he could not pierce the trail of that spiritual artifact.

His sword remained by his side, and he was clad in heavy armor. Yet, even as he walked into the Hall of State Affairs and sat upon the Demon King's throne, no 'accident' occurred.

To Zong Shou's astonishment, the area was protected by a spiritual array, especially the Dragon Seat deep within the hall, which possessed its own separate array. The difficulty for those people to attempt an assassination or anything similar had increased significantly.

Had these people truly intended to give up just like that? Was that Zong Shi so discerning of the times?

His gaze swept carefully over the hall, still finding nothing suspicious. Zong Shou's brow furrowed slightly, lost in thought. Then, his vigilance eased somewhat. With a slight smile, he watched the many people inside busily attending to their tasks.

Especially Zong Lan and the others, who were rushing about without pause.

This era, prior to the Spirit Tide, could still be considered barbaric, lacking the numerous complex rituals of later ages.

And the Eastern Lin Cloud Continent, in the eyes of many during this time, was even more of a frontier region, possessing even fewer formalities.

However, as an enthronement ceremony for the ruler of a city, or even a nation, it could not be overly simplistic—just a group of people shouting 'Long live the City Lord' and calling it done. There was a complete set of grand ceremonial procedures; the grander and more complex it was, the nobler the Demon King's status appeared, and it represented the reverence of the subjects towards the Demon King.

Therefore, although the enthronement ceremony was slightly tedious, it was tedious in a way that made perfect sense.

The style of the ceremony for the King of the Demon Race was even more peculiar: first, a blood oath with all the demon tribes, followed by the slaughter of three sacrificial beasts to inform the heavens.

The original custom also required the slaughter of living people, selecting criminals from their respective tribes. The more people killed, the higher the perceived status among the demon tribes, the more satisfied and secure they felt.

However, after establishing Mount Qiantian, Zong Weiran abolished this barbaric custom of the Demon Race. All annual sacrifices were simple affairs, involving only the slaughter of pigs and dogs to conclude the matter.

Zong Shou naturally had no intention of reinstating human sacrifice; it was simply too savage and inhumane.

But when he watched Hu Qianqiu order men to carry in a large altar made of gold and place it in the center of the hall, pouring jar after jar of wine into it, his expression subtly shifted.

Indeed, once everything was prepared, Hu Qianqiu was the first to step beside the wine vat, slicing his hand open, causing blood to gush out in torrents.

Zong Shou watched the quantity, only stopping when Hu Qianqiu had let out nearly ten catties' worth.

At this point, Hu Qianqiu’s face was pale, his legs visibly trembling with weakness, yet he cast a proud and provocative gaze over everyone, his eyes showing clear triumph. With a tiger's stride, he returned to his original position.

Zong Shou's scalp tingled, but it was just a blood oath; was it necessary to be so exaggerated?

Fortunately, Hu Zhongyuan was not far away, someone he could ask. When Zong Shou shot him a look, Hu Zhongyuan immediately whispered proudly, "My Lord, you don't know! According to our demon customs, the more blood shed during a blood oath, the more sincerity it shows, the more forthright the person is, and the more loyal to the Sovereign. Of course, there's another meaning: the stronger the vital energy and the healthier the body. One cannot show weakness in this aspect. My father actually spilled a full dou of blood—truly impressive, living up to the prestige of our Iron Tiger Clan!"

Zong Shou was slightly taken aback, wondering if such a custom actually existed, and why he didn't know about it.

After Hu Zhongyuan came Chai Yuan. This man had been somewhat dejected earlier, but at this moment, he refused to show any weakness. After a snort, he also sliced his wrist; blood poured out like a spring.

After a while, he nearly collapsed, having shed only about half a bowl more than Hu Zhongyuan. Then, with a slight smile, he tilted his chin toward Hu Qianqiu before staggering back.

The third was Ling Xuan, the patriarch of the Eyewolf Clan—also a ruthless character. The amount of blood he released was only slightly less than Hu Zhongyuan's. He almost fainted on the spot and had to be supported back to his seat.

However, this action clearly won much support. Not only did everyone in the hall look solemn, but the few surviving generals of the Eyewolf Clan who hadn't been purged also showed expressions of deep admiration.

The patriarchs of the subsequent clans, just as Hu Zhongyuan had said, became more high-spirited the more blood they shed, all walking with a swagger, utterly pleased with themselves. Those who were physically weaker and shed less blood looked ashamed, covering their faces with their sleeves, utterly mortified. When the more than two hundred clans had finished shedding blood, the golden altar was almost entirely filled with blood. The stench was overwhelming.

But it wasn't over yet. Next were the civil officials and military officers of the city who held some status. These people were only supposed to participate casually, just going through the motions. Yet, they too competed fiercely, fearful that they would appear to have shed too little blood.

Zong Shou couldn't help but roll his eyes. It seemed that everyone in the hall was suffering from depleted vitality. He mused that if a powerful enemy attacked Mount Qiantian at this moment, they would surely conquer it instantly and wipe everyone out. This custom was too ignorant; he absolutely had to abolish it in the future, abolish it immediately!

Among the crowd, he also spotted Yin Yang and Lian Cheng. Hu Qianqiu had indeed kept his word; both held important positions.

Yin Yang was the commander of the Fourth Garrison of the Imperial Guard, and Lian Cheng was made a Commandant, barely qualified to participate in this enthronement ceremony, though both stood at the very end of the hall.

They also followed the others, slicing their wrists to create a gash with raw, exposed flesh, not even blinking, looking extremely bold and mighty—a sight that made Zong Shou want to punch them.

Only Zong Yuan didn't care about the gazes of others, releasing only a few drops of blood to finish the ritual, which brought Zong Shou considerable relief.

Finally, it was Zong Shou's turn. Staring under the gazes of thousands of eyes in the great hall, he walked before the golden blood vat.

His original intention was to mimic the previous blood oath, merely going through the motions and shedding a few drops to finish.

But now, under the public scrutiny, with thousands of eyes fixed upon him with burning expectation, Zong Shou felt helpless. The concepts of people in this era were simple. At this moment, the more blood he shed, the more everyone would accept him. Faking it would only lead to contempt and alienation.

He comforted himself internally, thinking that he only had to endure this pain once in his life. Having so many people gathered together was better than going one by one.

He had no choice but to grit his teeth. Zong Shou gripped the knife, closed his eyes, and sliced his wrist, letting the blood flow freely.

He lamented inwardly that since arriving in this era, the few times he had been injured were all due to blood oaths.

After releasing about half a dou of blood, Zong Shou began to feel dizzy. Then, an idea sparked. He immediately shut his eyes and tilted backward, his face turning a pale gold and purple, as if collapsing.

Those near him were startled and reached out to support him. They helped Zong Shou back to the throne above, administered resuscitation to his philtrum, and poured in elixirs until Zong Shou finally woke up.

At this moment, inside the hall, whether it was Hu Qianqiu, Chai Yuan, or the old ministers of Zong Weiran’s faction, they were all weeping with emotion, deeply moved.

Although the Young Lord's body was indeed somewhat weak, he had lived up to expectations. He was the son of the late sovereign, possessing kingly demeanor. Look how devout he was, how sincere! He even fainted just to make the blood oath with everyone.

Only Hu Zhongyuan scratched the back of his head, his face filled with confusion.

He wondered, was the Young Lord's body really that frail?

His stamina was indeed poor—he would be gasping for breath after running for just two hours. But that didn't mean his body was weak. In his impression, beneath the Young Lord's seemingly frail body lay robust qi and blood, as strong as an ox.

Next came the blood alliance. The high priest distributed bowls of blood wine to everyone in the hall. Zong Shou also received a bowl and immediately noticed the strong, bloody aroma.

This bowl was ninety-nine percent blood. He had to practically pinch his nose to force it down.

With the blood oath completed, everyone performed three genuflections and nine full kowtows, thus concluding the first half of the enthronement ceremony.

The final part was the sacrifice to Heaven. Dozens of the highest-ranking clan patriarchs slaughtered the three beasts on the spot. Then, Zong Shou alone ascended the Altar of Heaven Sacrifice, which was also built atop Mount Qiantian, suspended off the cliffside. Guided by the high priest, he proclaimed the sacrificial text and offered prayers to the heavens, concluding the rites.

This was considered extremely formal by the standards of the Eastern Lin Cloud Continent; Mount Qiantian City was a large establishment, hence the elaborate procedure.

However, when Zong Shou looked at the Altar of Heaven Sacrifice, his brow twitched, and a hidden smile flickered in his eyes. He finally understood where Zong Shi and his group planned to make their move.