With the words of Chu Weiyang falling, a deathly silence enveloped the surroundings, yet a chaotic aura intertwined around the cultivators, weaving into a dense net that severed the raging winds and torrential rains from all directions. Similarly, it faintly shrouded Chu Weiyang's figure within.
In place, Chu Weiyang seemed oblivious to the changes in the auras of the cultivators. He chuckled to himself, holding an oiled paper umbrella in one hand while repeatedly rubbing the jade slip in the other.
At the same time, the clear voice of Chunyu Zhi flowed like a cool river, continuously streaming through Chu Weiyang's mind.
After a few breaths, under the guidance of the marvelous methods of Tingchang Mountain, Chu Weiyang directed his spiritual power towards the jade slip.
Lines of spiritual light gradually illuminated the simple patterns on the jade slip.