The tension in the hall thickened like a storm cloud before rain. The elders of the Sword Shandian Sect had just begun to prepare their departure when a voice rose above the murmurs and formalities.
"Elder sir, may I request something before you go?"
The crowd turned. Han Zukong was stepping forward, calm and composed, yet there was something sharp in his gaze that made everyone instinctively part to make way. His tone was respectful, but there was a flicker of unshakable determination that caught the attention of even the most stoic of the Sword Shandian elders.
Senior Brother Ren, who had been overseeing the ceremony, frowned in irritation. "Who are you to interrupt me?" he barked.
But before his anger could carry further, one of the leading elders raised his hand. His voice was deep and authoritative. "Ren. Step down. I want to hear what the young man has to say."
Ren froze, disbelief etched across his face. "Elder, what is this? Are we truly—"
"Now," the elder commanded.
