The quiet interior of the isolated stone chamber seemed to shrink, the ambient light from the glowing jade manuals on the walls dimming until only the simple wooden table separating the two figures remained illuminated.
The air was thick, heavy, and utterly devoid of any natural draft, carrying the dry, suffocating scent of millions of years of accumulated written wisdom.
Across the smooth, unadorted dark wood sat the examiner, an old Master Teacher whose skin resembled weathered parchment, his eyes entirely blank and cloudy like a winter sky, yet vibrating with the profound, undeniable mental weight of a peak Nirvana Rebirth Realm expert.
He didn't breathe, he didn't even twitch; he simply existed as a physical manifestation of the academy's unyielding standard.
At that moment, as Haoran sat down on the stone seat in front of the examiner, he suddenly opened his mouth.
