After Lin Ming defeated the Golden Flood Dragon Disciple, the light on the ninth stone pillar faded completely.
The golden runes on its shaft went dark one after another, like a candle that had burned to its end, its last wisp of flame flickering a few times in the wind before vanishing altogether.
The remaining golden sheen on the pillar's surface rapidly receded as well, exposing the dark gray rock beneath. Like a shell drained of its essence blood, it cast a dim shadow across the plaza.
The stone figures on the other pillars still stood silently.
The stone figures farther to the right-the Azure Flood Dragon, White Flood Dragon, Golden Eagle, and the others-remained motionless, like sleeping statues. Faint lights of different colors radiated around them, lending them a quiet solemnity beneath the gray-white sky.
Lin Ming withdrew his gaze and briefly closed his eyes.
He could sense an invisible gaze watching him from somewhere beyond his perception.
That gaze converged from every direction above the plaza, like a net woven from countless fine threads, wrapping around him and scrutinizing him.
Lin Ming waited for the Dragon Ascension Gate to render its judgment, for that aged, hollow voice to sound again and announce his next opponent and the challenge he would be permitted to undertake.
Silence lingered over the plaza. It was as though an eternal stillness had descended upon this space once more, with only the lingering golden motes drifting slowly down through the air.
Lin Ming stood at the center of the plaza, his robes stirring gently in the breeze.
After several dozen breaths, Lin Ming finally felt the earth tremble.
The tremor was exceedingly faint, like a heart slowly awakening after ten thousand years of slumber.
The bluestone beneath his feet quivered slightly. At that moment,