When Qin He stood before the Dragon Clan residence, he happened to see a squad of guards in fitted uniforms hurriedly carrying several enormous wooden chests through the gates. The medicinal fragrance seeping from the cracks of the chests carried a faint, nearly imperceptible trace of blood—the distinctive scent of Blood Velvet, a sacred healing medicine.
The vermilion gates stood a full twenty feet high. Lifelike dragon motifs were carved into the bronze rings, their surfaces polished over a century into a warm, lustrous patina. The guards at the entrance had drawn the blades at their waists half an inch from their sheaths, their gazes as sharp as eagles'.
Two white marble lions, each over ten feet tall, stood before the gates with savage glints in their eyes. The whiskers beneath their chins coiled in dense knots, and spiritual power faintly circulated through them. These were auspicious guardian beasts nourished by spirit inscriptions, and the light in their eyes now burned brighter than ever—they had clearly been activated into a state of alert.
Several servants hurried past carrying bundled black iron chains. Their steps were hurried, yet they dared not make a sound. Even as they passed the stone lions, they instinctively shrank their necks.
From within the residence came the faint sounds of clashing weapons, chanting cultivation techniques, and humming pill furnaces. The weapon clashes followed the rhythm of coordinated attack drills, while the pill furnaces hummed ever more urgently, accompanied by an alchemist's low shout: "Steady the fire a little more!"
Beneath the appearance of prosperity lay an unspoken tension. This was the Dragon Clan, foremost in Yunlai. With its main pillar trapped in peril, no matter how deep its foundations, it could not conceal its panic.
Following the directions of passersby, Qin He made his way around