It had originally been pitch-black inside, so dark one could not see one's hand before one's face. The air was thick with the coldness and deathly stillness accumulated over the years.
But as Lin Fan and the others stepped into the great hall, the silent space that had lain dormant for who knew how many ages suddenly began to brighten.
A faint golden halo first appeared across the gleaming floor. Like the first torch carefully lit in the dead of night, it was weak, yet brimming with a vitality that had been awakened.
Then, without a sound, the golden halo spread outward, expanding in all directions along some ancient, fixed pattern etched into the ground.
The pattern was intricate and exquisite, like a painting that had been sealed away for eternity and was now being redrawn by an invisible brush.
The golden light crept over massive stone pillars thick enough for four people to wrap their arms around, climbed the walls carved with dragon motifs, and lit the dark, icy bronze hall layer by layer!
The ceiling was immensely high. As far as the eye could see were ancient structures cast from bronze, and wherever the golden light reached, countless vivid reliefs emerged—Dragon Clan battles, sacrifices, and worship. They seemed so lifelike that they might burst from the walls at any moment.
Just then, a sharp cry of surprise rang through the hall.
The little girl Ruo Xuan abruptly widened her dark, watery eyes and stared in disbelief toward the uppermost depths of the hall.
In the gradually brightening light, they could clearly see that twelve dark spheres were actually floating at the very top of the hall.
Each sphere was no larger than a fist, its entire body dim and dark, with faint scale patterns flowing across its surface.