The meeting hall of Falling Blossom Villa remained thick with the scent of charred cedar and the heavy, electric hum of unresolved tension.
Outside the high lattice windows, the gentle afternoon breeze brushed against the weeping willow branches, but inside, no one dared to speak above a whisper.
The Ten Crowns, Shen Jian, Shen Tao, Shen Ying, Shen Xinye, Shen Cai, Shen Bai, Shen Xun'er, Shen Ji, and Shen Fei, along with Xia Mengyao, Luo Mingye and Zhu Ziyan, stood around the perimeter of the scorched table, their weapons half-drawn, their nerves pulled taut like iron wires awaiting the thunder of war.
At the far end of the hall, near the grand array nexus, Ling Luochen sat bathed in the cold, flickering azure luminescence of her floating interface.
Her fingers had been dancing across the glowing glyphs for hours, sweat beading along her hairline and dampening her temples.
