Inside the study of Chu Feng's Villa in the True Inheritance Courtyard.
Song Xiang stood with his hands respectfully at his sides, a faint sheen of sweat on his brow. He had just cautiously reported the news of Fang Han's rise to ninety-fifth on the overall ranking and didn't dare to breathe too loudly.
A dead silence filled the study. The air seemed to have frozen, so oppressive it was hard to breathe.
Chu Feng stood before the window with his hands clasped behind his back, his face turned away from Song Xiang. The setting sun cast his long shadow across the room.
He said nothing, but Song Xiang could clearly see the knuckles of Chu Feng's clasped hands turning white from the force of his grip, the veins on their backs faintly bulging.
After a long moment, Chu Feng slowly turned around. His face was unreadable, but his deep eyes held a bone-chilling coldness, as if a storm was about to break.
He spoke, his voice unnervingly calm:
