Someone reached out. After the first person opened a bamboo slip, the phantom image was lit by spiritual power. Then one streak of spiritual light after another flared up, illuminating faces wearing every kind of expression.
The atmosphere in the hall changed. Its previously taut solemnity spread like ink dropped into clear water, rapidly bleeding outward, irreversibly seeping into every corner.
The veins on some people's foreheads bulged. Like earthworms coiled around their temples, they throbbed and jumped. Their hands clenched the edges of the bamboo slips so tightly that their knuckles turned white, while the veins on the backs of their hands stood out one by one, as though they were about to burst through the skin.
Some faces turned green. It was as if they had been strangled, or had swallowed some bitter poison. Even their lips bore a deathly gray pallor, while incredulous horror churned in their eyes.
Some clenched their fists, their nails digging into their palms until blood seeped out, yet they did not notice at all.
Others had not even read halfway through before snapping the bamboo slips shut and squeezing their eyes closed. Their chests heaved violently, their bodies instinctively recoiling, as though one more word would snap their reason.
Bang—
A thunderous crash abruptly exploded through the hall, shaking dust from the rafters in a soft shower.
The Flowing Cloud Sect's sect master slammed his palm onto the table and sprang to his feet. He rose too forcefully, sending the heavy wooden chair toppling backward to smash against the floor with a dull thud.
His face was flushed scarlet as if scorched by blazing fire. His chest rose and fell violently, his lips trembling. When he spoke, his voice carried the force of thunder rolling through the hall, battering back and forth