Silence.
None dared to breathe too loudly, all eyes turned towards the severed head of the scholar, then back to Shen Haoran.
The scent of aged spirit wine now mingled with the sharp, metallic iron of fresh gore, and the guests, sovereigns of kingdoms and masters of sects, stood frozen in place, their hearts skipping a beat from fear and nervousness.
Xia Mengyao glanced at the severed head of the scholar, which had come to rest near a tray of crystalline grapes, and she couldn't help but look at Haoran worriedly.
Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird as she knew the weight of what had just transpired.
In the Tian Yuan Empire, there was a tacit understanding among the powers: you do not kill a scholar of the Three Schools of Thought.
It wasn't because they were physically formidable, as many were barely at the Golden Core realm, but because of the Karmic Backlash.
