"Hmm! I never saw that coming…" Mo Jian muttered, his voice calm, but a flicker of intrigue glinted in his eyes.
Standing beside the tall window of the Thousand Wealth Chamber, he watched from the high tower as chaos unfolded below.
The spiritual storm that had just ravaged the Seven Talisman Trade Hall still pulsed through the air like echoes of a thunderclap.
The entire district had been torn apart—cracked stone, shattered buildings.
Many unfortunate stores were lost to the battle.
And yet, Mo Jian's expression remained tranquil. His robes were unruffled, his posture straight.
He looked less like a witness to a battle and more like a painter admiring the final strokes on a long-anticipated canvas.
The sudden infighting among the upper echelon of the Seven Talisman Trade Hall had caught many by surprise—but not him.
Yes, it was unexpected… but not unthinkable.
