The Celestial Son of Zhou sat upon his high seat, quietly listening to his ministers report on the various natural disasters from every region. Sorrow welled up in his heart, and his expression was dejected.
He sighed.
"Why must it be this way? Why..."
The ministers fell silent. They all understood the Celestial Son's meaning and simultaneously looked up at the sky. A mixture of reverence, fear, and hatred flashed across their faces, yet none dared to speak.
To speak ill of the Immortal Gods was to invite calamity.
After a long moment, a white-haired old minister bowed his head and sighed.
"Your Majesty, if there is no other way, then... then let us open the sacrificial altar, pay respects to heaven and earth, worship the Immortal Gods, and pray for favorable weather and peace for our lands..."
The Celestial Son of Zhou was silent for a long time.
After another long pause, he nodded, his voice distant.
"Then let it be..."
