My seniority is extraordinary: I was only eight years old when the whole village came to wish me a H

The night was as dark as ink, but the Wu Clan Ancestral Hall was not entirely dark.

The interior of the ancestral hall was much more magnificent and spacious than what Su Qinghuan had seen from the outside.

The towering dome is supported by massive pillars that require several people to encircle, and the pillars are carved with intricate and ancient cloud patterns.

The ground is paved with whole blocks of polished black basalt, and the sound of your footsteps echoes ethereally when you walk on it.

The air was filled with a rich, unique aroma, a blend of top-quality sandalwood and aged wood.

This aroma is so enticing that it calms the mind and inspires reverence.

There are no electric lights in the ancestral hall; all the light comes from the ever-burning lamps placed at intervals on the walls.

The lamp was in the shape of an ancient bronze animal head, and the oil burning inside did not seem to be ordinary lamp oil. The flame had a warm, pale golden color, enveloping the entire ancestral hall in a solemn and dignified light.

Wu You walked alone along the wide passageway in the center of the ancestral hall.

Three steps behind him, the head steward Wu Jingzhi was following respectfully with small, quick steps.

In this most sacred place in Wujia Village, even he, the highly respected steward, dared not walk side by side with the "Young Master".

This is a rule ingrained in our very being.

The views on both sides of the passageway are truly breathtaking.

Row upon row, column upon column, densely packed, reaching all the way to the dome, are the ancestral tablets of the Wu family's ancestors.

These memorial tablets, arranged according to seniority and merit, are enshrined on a huge pedestal made from a single piece of Phoebe zhennan wood.

The lowest level contains the ancestral tablets of recent collateral branches. These tablets are carved from the finest sandalwood and inscribed with their names and dates of birth and death in gold powder.

The higher the ancestral tablet, the more precious its material.

Ebony, agarwood, and even some pieces are carved from whole pieces of mutton fat jade, exuding a warm and understated luster under the dim light.

At the very top of these thousands of memorial tablets, and at the deepest part of the entire ancestral hall, stands a colossal altar that is more magnificent than all the tablet stands below combined.

On the altar, only nine spirit tablets are enshrined.

Those nine memorial tablets were several times larger than the others, their surfaces displaying a deep purplish-gold hue, neither gold nor wood, their material unknown. Under the glow of the ever-burning lamps, the names inscribed on the tablets in ancient seal script seemed to flow slowly, exuding a mysterious majesty.

The statues enshrined there are the original nine ancestors of Wujia Village.

Wu You walked to the altar and stopped.

His small figure appeared incredibly tiny standing before the enormous altar and the thousands upon thousands of memorial tablets.

But he exuded an aura of supreme authority that blended seamlessly with the surroundings.

He is the true master of this place.

"Respectfully," Wu You said without turning around, his voice ringing out clearly in the empty hall, "Fetch incense."

"Yes, young master."

Wu Jingzhi respectfully responded and quickly walked to a sandalwood altar next to the sacrificial altar.

He carefully opened a long, rectangular box, also made of sandalwood.

The moment the box was opened, a unique fragrance, even richer and more mellow than the air, instantly filled the air.

On the bright yellow silk lining the box lay three sticks of incense, all black with what appeared to be golden dragon patterns moving across them.

This is the "ambergris" that Wu Family Village has secretly prepared, which is used exclusively for worshipping their ancestors.

It is said that its recipe has been passed down for over a thousand years, and the spices used are all rare and precious treasures. Each one is priceless and hard to come by.

Wu Jingzhi carefully picked up three sticks of ambergris with specially made silver chopsticks, walked to the eternal golden lamp in the center of the altar, and brought the tip of the incense to the flame.

No open flame was lit, only a wisp of smoke rose gently. At the tip of the incense stick, a small, yet surprisingly bright red dot appeared.

He held the lit ambergris in both hands, turned around and walked to Wu You, respectfully handing it over.

Wu You stretched out his hands and accepted the three incense sticks.

His face held an unprecedented solemnity and reverence.

Holding three incense sticks, he bowed deeply before the nine purple-gold ancestral tablets on the altar.

One bow.

I bow again.

Three bows.

Every movement was perfectly executed, filled with an ancient rhythm, as if it had been practiced hundreds of times.

This is an eight-year-old child's highest respect for his bloodline.

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