Persuasion and Secrets

The silence within Helm's Hold seemed to have solidified, pressing heavily upon every inch of air. Even time itself appeared to have come to a halt in this space built from ancient stone walls and weighty secrets.

The towering dome vanished into deep shadow. Only several beams of light poured down through stained-glass windows, placing Chen Xi and the small cloaked figure beside him in the spotlight like searchlights. Dust motes drifted through the shafts of light.

Grand Master Azrael's question struck like a bolt round leaving the barrel, carrying cold momentum and an unquestionable demand for answers as it echoed through the hall.

He was not merely demanding an explanation for the source of the information. He had gone straight to the heart of the matter—how could an outsider touch upon a taboo that even the highest ranks of the Imperium had no right to glimpse?

Chen Xi could feel the weight in the Inner Circle members' gazes. It was not simple suspicion, but an instinctive vigilance forged over ten thousand years toward anything that might endanger the Chapter's most fundamental secrets.

He drew a deep breath, not out of fear, but to sharpen his Psychic Perception to its keenest state and capture the slightest fluctuations within the emotional fields of those ancient warriors behind the stone table.

He understood that under such scrutiny, even the faintest trace of panic or falsehood would have nowhere to hide.

He spoke again, his voice steady, carrying the Inquisitor's characteristic tone of authority tempered with detachment, though now it bore an added solemnity deliberately reserved for grave matters.

"Grand Master, esteemed masters," he said with a slight nod, his gaze sweeping over every face behind the stone table, each one marked by the passage of years and the scars of war. "I