Zhu Ziyan was completely not expecting getting thrown into the middle of a tribal people performing a sacred ritual after she was swallowed by that chaotic spatial crack on the battlefield.
And she most certainly was not expecting for the tribal people to scream in joy and made her seat regally upon a massive, carved obsidian throne, perched atop the apex of a colossal, nine-tiered stone pyramid deep in the humid heart of an uncharted primordial jungle.
The sheer absurdity of the situation made her breath catch in her throat.
The heavy smell of burning aromatic copal incense, crushed jungle orchids, and hot stone washed over her senses.
Below the towering pyramid, an endless sea of bronze-skinned tribal warriors, priestesses draped in leopard pelts, and village elders were slamming their foreheads against the blood-stained stone steps with bone-rattling devotion.
Deep inside, Zhu Ziyan was utterly nervous, anxious, and timid.
