The silence held for three full heartbeats after Lin Tian's words faded.
Then the air above the square cracked.
It wasn't a sound, but a feeling, like the sky itself was a sheet of ice someone had stepped on. Two figures materialized on the roof of the gatehouse, their robes untouched by the wind.
Elder Shen Ruoyi stood with her hands clasped behind her back, her expression unreadable. Beside her was a man Lin Tian had only seen in council portraits—Elder Boran, his face like carved granite, his eyes the color of a winter sky.
The pressure Lin Tian had released snapped back into him, coiled tight. Too late. They felt the ripple from the cavern, and now this.
Du Heng stumbled back another step, bowing deeply. "Honored Elders! This outer disciple, Lin Tian, he—"
"Silence," Elder Boran said. His voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of an avalanche. Every disciple in the square flinched. Du Heng's mouth clamped shut.
