Inside the hall were several First Grade high-ranking officials.
The scholarly Confucian Sect has no absolute leader, and these individuals form various factions within the literary circle.
Just at this moment, a giant white crane suddenly swooped down from the clouds outside the hall, landing in front of Harmony Hall in an instant.
A person was actually sitting atop the white crane, about thirty years old, wearing a purple and gold Daoist robe, his hair tied up with a deep purple gold-embellished hairpin. His features were exquisite, eyebrows like a painting, incredibly handsome almost like a demon.
Especially those slightly upturned eyes, seemingly harboring an eerie power—some people would become entranced just by glimpsing them, while others appeared to avoid them like snakes and scorpions, not daring to meet his gaze.
