Those threads were all wrapped around his body.
The old man was very advanced in years; he had long since lost the ability to move freely, and could only rely on these threads to pull and shift his own body.
When he "sat up," he happened to meet the gaze of the youth standing at the foot of the bed; their eyes locked.
"Sha-sha… sha-sha…"
The old man's fingertips trembled lightly. Through the threads, they linked into the music room, plucking at the zither strings and scraping them. If one listened closely, one could hear "speech" within the sound.
"I did not know Your Excellency would grace my humble abode; I have failed to go far enough to welcome you. I beg your pardon."
The old man's posture was set very low. This was not only because the youth had earlier been able, here, to contest him for control over the room, but even more because the youth had just now, in the courtyard, actually been able to stir the Black Flood Dragon residual spirit into agitation.
