"It seems some people have come here without even receiving an invitation," Riley said calmly, but his voice resonated like a divine decree.
The moment those words left his lips, the entire crowd stiffened as if time itself had paused.
The sky, once bright and vast, darkened ever so slightly.
Clouds halted mid-drift, birds froze mid-flight, and even the wind seemed to fall silent in reverence—or perhaps fear.
No one dared to speak.
No one dared to move. Millions stood frozen, heads bowed slightly without thinking, as if by instinct.
Even the mightiest cultivators—those who had crushed empires, slain ancient beasts, and lived for thousands of years—felt as though they were children once more, standing before a mountain they could never climb.
Riley's voice, though not shouted, had reached every corner of the gathering.
Not through sound alone, but through sheer spiritual will.
It pierced barriers and formations, whispered into ears, and echoed in hearts.
