The sky above the Frost Citadel was a chaotic canvas of apocalyptic warfare. High above the roiling, blood-red atmosphere saturated by the ongoing siege, the stealth vessel of the Fragrance Melody Sect remained completely undisturbed, perfectly hidden within a dense, swirling vortex of natural storm clouds. Inside the luxurious main cabin, the remnants of the hedonistic council had been swept away, replaced by the tense, crisp focus of an impending, high-stakes military operation.
Wang Jian stood tall beside the primary tactical projection console. His pristine white scholarly robes were meticulously fastened, completely masking the terrifying, muscular demonic physique beneath. His starlit, abyssal dark eyes tracked the tiny, glowing markers of the enemy armada as they swarmed the broken ramparts of the Ice Heart Palace below.
