Yu Xuan slowly lifted his gaze toward the woman seated before him.
Under the pale, icy radiance of her presence, he quietly removed his bamboo hat and stored it away. His long black hair, dark with streaks of white fell down his back.
His heart did not waver.
Not even for a breath.
Cold beauty?
Overwhelming aura?
Piercing eyes?
He faced all of it head-on with perfect calm.
Bing Xin observed him from her seat, expression unreadable.
Behind her, the elite disciples of the Discipline Committee — those below the 3rd tier (Core Formation) swept their spiritual senses over him. They evaluated everything: his bearing, his Qi, his composure.
And more than one of them felt something peculiar:
This disciple… was too calm.
Bing Xin's eyelashes lowered a fraction as she gently flicked something with her fingers.
A memory crystal shot toward Yu Xuan like a razor of cold light.
Its speed, deadly enough to pierce boulders, cut across the hall.
SHWIP!
Yu Xuan simply raised one hand.
