Li Ling calmly stepped forward.
Each of his steps echoed through the Ancestral Hall, not because he was deliberately exerting force, but because the hall itself seemed to acknowledge movement within it.
This was not a normal building where sound traveled through air and struck walls.
It was more like the entire place was a ritual vessel, and every action taken inside it would be recorded, judged, weighed, and then engraved into the hidden history of the sect.
The distance from the entrance to the center of the hall was not short, but Li Ling did not rush.
He walked down the central path with Asura Reaper in hand, his white-and-gold robes fluttering faintly, while the gazes of seventy-one high-level existences fell upon him like invisible mountains.
A normal Core Formation cultivator would have collapsed by now.
Even a Nascent Soul cultivator, when standing before such a gathering, would likely feel their knees soften and their Dao Heart tremble.
