Kyoto International Airport, private jet apron.
At 4:30 in the afternoon, a silver-white Gulfstream private jet landed smoothly, and the boarding stairs slowly connected.
The moment the cabin door opened, afternoon sunlight poured in, bathing Lin Mo in a faint golden glow.
He stood at the cabin door, his gaze sweeping over the sea of people below.
A red carpet stretched from the foot of the boarding stairs all the way to the end of the VIP passage. On either side stood two rows of honor guards in dark blue ceremonial uniforms, holding rifles, backs ramrod straight and eyes fixed ahead.
Both sides of the red carpet were packed with people.
At the very front stood a white-haired elder, dressed in a deep purple court robe.
A jade seal symbolizing the Noble Council's highest authority hung on his chest. His face was lean, and his gaze steady.
He was none other than Shen Mingxuan, President of the Noble Council.
Behind him stood two rows of officials.
The civil officials wore dark teal robes, while the military officials wore crisp dark green uniforms, medals pinned to their chests. Every one of them looked solemn.
Farther back stood dozens of reporters carrying an array of cameras, the rapid clicking of shutters erupting in a barrage.
Lin Mo slowly descended the boarding stairs, his steps steady and his expression calm.
Ten Clones followed behind him in single file. Their pitch-black armor gleamed coldly in the sunlight, great blades hanging at their waists. They marched in perfect unison, their gazes sharp as knives.
The sight was like ten war gods from ancient times, guarding their king.
The reporters instantly erupted into an uproar.
"Is that Lord Lin? He's way more handsome than he looks on TV!"
"What's going on with those eyes? Why do