"It's been many years, Shen Haoran, and you're still as thoroughly, insufferably arrogant as ever."
The voice was like the dry scraping of autumn leaves against a fresh tombstone, slithering across the quiet stones of the grand plaza.
At that exact, heavy moment, from the deep, light absorbing group of the Hei Clan, a young man with an incredibly gloomy appearance and dark, heavy eyebags took a slow, deliberate step forward.
He possessed long, unkempt jet-black hair that fell loosely over his narrow shoulders and a pair of blood-red eyes that gleamed with a deep, unsettling malice.
He was draped in an absolute black silk robe that seemed to actively pull the surrounding sunlight into its dark threads, suffocating the natural radiance of the afternoon sky.
The surrounding crowd of peripheral disciples and noble scions instantly collective gasped as they recognized his silhouette.
