The entire hall was itself a vast convergence of rules.
Everywhere Shen Yi looked, the power of rules accumulated over countless years had been laid into every brick and stone.
And all those currents of power led to the raised platform.
Shen Yi had encountered the Hall Master before, though strictly speaking, he had never seen him.
Three days earlier, after the commander had fallen at the Holy Land gates, a voice had sounded from this hall.
Back then, Shen Yi had heard the voice but never seen its owner.
Now that he had, he knew it belonged to this gaunt old man.
He did not look like someone capable of holding half the Holy Land in check.
But the instant Shen Yi noticed him, alarm bells rang in his head.
This was exactly the kind of man he could not afford to underestimate.
"Young friend Shen." The old man spoke softly, yet his voice bore down with crushing weight. "Sit."
Shen Yi: "..."
Shen Yi did not sit.
He swept his gaze around the hall, then stopped ten paces from the platform.
"What a distinctive way of receiving guests, Hall Master," Shen Yi said.
"You invite someone over, then surround him three layers deep."
The old man merely smiled. "You sensed them."
"Thirty-seven presences," Shen Yi said. "Even the weakest is stronger than that commander outside."
"You made Cangwu Hall lose face."
The old man went on.
"That commander was my man. You struck him down in front of the entire Holy Land. Another Hall Master would have demanded your life by now."
"Then I should thank you for your generosity, Hall Master."
"No need." The old man waved a hand.
"That is not why I summoned you."
He paused.
The glimmer of azure light between his brows quivered.