The first ray of the morning sun had barely touched the frosted roof of the mountain pavilion when the iron bolts of the main entrance smoothly slid back.
The massive, dense line of high-tier female clients and wealthy merchants had not shifted even a single millimeter during the freezing night. Hundreds of desperate individuals stood in flawless formation, clutching their copper queue numbers with white-knuckled grips. The moment Ethan stepped onto the threshold, his vibrant crimson robes catching the dawn breeze, a collective sigh of intense relief rippled through the gathered crowd.
He did not waste a single second of operational time. Standing directly behind him like a majestic, silver-clad statue of death was Elder Heidy, her hand resting casually on the hilt of her sword, her freezing gaze ensuring that absolute, unbroken discipline was maintained across the plaza.
"Let the intake initiate," said Ethan, his deep voice carrying a flawless, professional authority.
