Within the heart of the obsidian subspace, evening settled in like a silken veil dipped in moonlight. The valley's luminous mist rippled faintly around the central settlement, reflecting the many oil lamps that now illuminated the Liu clan's meeting hall.
The hall itself was recently expanded from its modest beginnings to a site that boasted dark beams of spirit-oak and polished stone floors that retained the mountain's natural warmth. Its lanterns cast a soft glow over the small gathering assembled there.
Leng Yue stood at the head of the long table, her posture straight, her expression carved from discipline itself. She wore no elaborate ornaments—only a midnight-blue robe tied with a thin silver sash. Yet her presence alone filled the chamber with an authority difficult to ignore.
