Descent
Inside the Jiaolong Grand Hall, the atmosphere was as heavy as a mountain.
The hall was immensely spacious, its vaulted ceiling soaring high overhead. More than ten thick stone pillars coiled with jiaolongs stood in rows along either side, the jiaolongs carved upon them lifelike enough to seem ready to leap from the stone at any moment.
Ao Jianlie sat upright upon the throne above.
He wore a golden robe, the jiaolong patterns embroidered in gold thread faintly flowing beneath the lamplight as though living creatures swam within them.
His features were sharply defined, his eyes deep. At that moment, his gaze swept, intentionally or otherwise, over the many clan elders seated below, carrying an indescribable scrutiny and gravity.
More than ten clan elders sat in rows on both sides below.
Some were white-haired old men, while others looked like stern middle-aged men. Every one of them radiated no weak aura fluctuations.
Qin Gu sat in the third seat on the left, his posture straight and his face lean. His narrow eyes were half-closed, making him appear to be resting with his eyes shut, yet every faint movement within the hall was caught in his sight.
In that nearly frozen silence, a burst of hurried, disorderly footsteps suddenly drew closer from afar, shattering the hall's stillness.
The footsteps stumbled wildly, carrying obvious panic and helplessness, utterly at odds with the hall's solemn, imposing atmosphere.
The clan elders in the hall frowned one after another, their gazes turning in unison toward the entrance.
A figure staggered into the hall.
It was a young member of the Dark Blood Jiaolong Clan, dressed in the black garments worn by those on duty at the clan's Soul Spirit Hall. His robes were now covered in dust, fine beads of sweat covered his brow,