Amaterasu stood among the crowd,
feeling as if a thousand needles were pricking her back. The awkwardness was like having her last scrap of dignity torn away in public, and her face burned with shame.
She lifted her eyes and scanned her surroundings.
'Good heavens. Besides me,'
'every single person here is from the Great Xia Empire.'
Their gazes felt tangible, some scrutinizing, others questioning, piercing her until she was thoroughly uncomfortable.
She wished she could find a crack in the ground and crawl into it.
Without even needing a reminder from Chu He,
Amaterasu, like a guilty child scrambling to hide her mistake, frantically raised a hand and made a soft beckoning gesture.
In that instant,
the Eight-Handed Mirror, which had been hanging high above the Bronze Coffin like a golden sun radiating a destructive aura,
seemed to hear its master's urgent summons.
