The atmosphere within the Supreme Hall's corridor was heavy, like the physical residue of the ancient auras that dwelled within the separate dimension.
As Haoran stepped through the fading light of the wooden double doors, the transition was like a cold plunge into a mountain spring.
He came face to face with a wall of maternal concern and silent intensity: his mother, Chu Xueyu, and his aunts, Leng Shuang and Feng Yuyan.
Chu Xueyu, her silver and gold sword already sheathed back into her storage, crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes, which could freeze the blood of a thousand soldiers, were currently narrowed in a mix of suspicion and protective instinct.
"So," she began, her voice low and resonant, "what did that old bat want from you?"
Feng Yuyan snorted in amusement.
Leng Shuang didn't find it weird. Since ancient times, no members from the Main Line of the Shen had ever feared insulting their elders.
