Chen Yuan heard the wretched scream too, and his brow lifted slightly.
All seventeen people in the hall lay prostrate, cold sweat soaking their backs. The scream had come from the south of the city, its piercing echoes lingering in the morning mist.
It had passed through the city walls and streets, even through the corridors of Abyss-Calming Prefecture, to reach this main hall. Everyone assumed a Dao Foundation Real Person had struck.
Liu Shen pressed his forehead against the cold black stone floor. Sweat had soaked through the clothes on his back, and he had only one thought: It must have been a Dao Foundation Real Person.
The scream had come from the south of the city, piercing the morning mist, the city walls, and the Thirty-Six Layers of black-stone restrictions around Abyss-Calming Prefecture before reaching this hall.
Apart from the man seated in the black chair, who else in Jinghai Prefecture could incinerate an entire great family with a late-stage Qi-Eating Realm cultivator from across the city?
Even Zhao Canghai lowered his head slightly as he stood to the chair's left, eyes downcast, not daring to speculate.
Chen Yuan merely opened his left hand, palm up, fingers slightly spread. A golden thread of qi silently grew from his palm.
The thread extended, weaving through the air until it formed a scroll. It had neither frame nor rollers. Its ink was the natural texture of mountains, rivers, and earth veins; its brushstrokes traced the course of order itself.
It floated three feet above Chen Yuan's palm. At first barely a foot across, it slowly expanded to one zhang, then three, then ten.
The mountains and rivers of all Jinghai Prefecture, its streets and cities, estates and homes, the courses of its earth veins... every form of life was condensed