The heavy bronze-studded doors of the Martial Scroll Hall groaned shut with a resonant thud that seemed to vibrate through Jiang Chen's ears.
He stood upon the elevated stone terrace for a fleeting moment, casting a sidelong glance at the towering structure that loomed like a slumbering beast. A faint light of contentment shimmered within the depths of his pupils.
The past few hours had been a grueling exercise in verbal and mental gymnastics as Jiang Chen navigated the labyrinthine skepticism of the elders.
Questions had come one after another. Where had he obtained the technique? Under what circumstances? Had there been witnesses? Had blood been spilled? Each inquiry had cut to the heart of the matter, ruthlessly seeking out flaws in his statements.
