As An Ning began her audition for the Senior Sister's role, genuine interest finally appeared on Wen Shaoheng's face, replacing the detached calm he had worn until now.
Until this moment, he had watched with the polite attentiveness of a director going through procedure. Professional. Neutral. Unmoved.
Now, he leaned forward slightly.
This scene had been chosen deliberately.
Not because it was flashy, nor because it showcased combat or spectacle, but because it stripped everything down to the core. No grand visuals. No background music. No dramatic cues to hide behind.
Only emotion.
The Senior Sister stood at the mountain gate, blood staining the hem of her robes. Behind her, the sect was already collapsing. Smoke curled into the sky. The sound of chaos pressed closer with every passing breath.
And before her stood her juniors.
Not one. Not two.
Many.
