Inside the Hurricane Legion's conference room, every officer of colonel rank and above sat grim-faced on either side of the long table, their expressions incomparably solemn.
No one spoke. The only sound in the entire conference room was the soft rustle of paper as one person leafed through the briefings.
Morning sunlight streamed in through one of the conference room windows, falling upon the face of the excessively young man seated at the head of the long table. More than two years had seemingly left no change on his face, though his skin still bore the pallor of someone who had not seen sunlight for two years.
As that man lowered his head to read through the legion's briefings from the past two years, the officers in the conference room were also quietly studying him.
For many of the officers, in the nearly three years since this man had come to the Hurricane Legion, they had only truly seen him twice. The first time had been the day he arrived at the Hurricane Legion; the second was today.
Compared to when he had first arrived at the Hurricane Legion on November 10th, Black Iron Calendar 895, no one knew why, but after this period of secluded cultivation, the aura around him seemed to have changed. Back then, he had possessed an edge—not only sharp, but deep as the sea. Yet now, after over two years of arduous cultivation, both that sharpness and profound aura had vanished completely. He seemed like an utterly ordinary youth, and even sensing danger from his aura had become difficult.
These legion officers, who had yet to become knights, did not understand what this change in Zhang Tie signified. Many were even startled and perplexed, wondering whether something had gone wrong during Zhang Tie's secluded cultivation,