Chapter 7 – The Disciple and the Patriarch
The young disciple bowed deeply, his voice trembling with reverence.
"Greetings, Master."
The man in the dark suit, his bearing regal despite the modern attire, regarded him with calm authority. His eyes softened, and he stepped forward. Only the disciple could hear the words that followed—words spoken not with sound, but with an echo that resonated directly within his heart.
"I am your master, but more than that—I am the Emperor of an ancient dynasty, a sovereign who once ruled when cultivation still flourished. From this day forth, you will carry my legacy into this new world."
The disciple's eyes widened. A storm of emotions rippled across his face—shock at the revelation, fear at the weight of such a connection, respect that bent his spine further in a bow, and admiration that burned in his gaze. To the onlookers, he merely appeared stunned, overwhelmed by awe toward the man who had chosen him.
At that moment, Patriarch Zhoa stepped forward, his own robes a stark contrast to the MC's modern suit. He clasped his fists and bowed deeply.
"Honorable Sir, once again, I thank you for saving me. Please… what reward would you accept for your kindness?"
The suited Emperor lifted his hand dismissively, his tone calm but resolute.
"My disciple is reward enough."
The Patriarch's brows rose, but he quickly concealed his surprise. To him, such a statement revealed unfathomable depth—someone who valued people above wealth. With a solemn expression, the Patriarch reached into his sleeve and produced a golden token engraved with the crest of the Zhoa family.
"This is my identity token. From this day, should you ever require access to any products of my companies, I will ensure introductions are made to our greatest partners. Furthermore, my distribution network will always be at your disposal."
The Emperor accepted the token with a nod. Then, he retrieved a simple jade-like tablet, smooth and glowing faintly with a subtle power. He extended it toward the Patriarch.
"This is my communication token. With it, you may contact me, no matter where you are."
Patriarch Zhoa accepted the strange item, bowing once again. For a moment, he frowned, wondering silently why this extraordinary man had not simply shared a phone number. But when he felt the faint pulse of power within the token, he suppressed his curiosity and tucked it away carefully.
Without further words, the Emperor turned, his disciple following closely behind. The sight of the regal figure in a tailored suit—moving with the poise of an ancient sovereign—burned itself into the memories of all present.
The world had changed, but the Emperor's majesty had not.