Xie Ji sat on the opposite side of a smooth, meticulously polished stone table in the center of the peach blossom courtyard, his bamboo broom leaning quietly against the stone bench.
Shen Haoran sat directly across from him, his posture exuding a pristine, effortless nobility that seemed to command the very air within the residential district.
Directly behind Haoran's broad shoulders, Huo Yue, Zhu Ziyan, Ning Xueli, and the rest of the formidable vanguard stood in a silent, dense perimeter, their sharp eyes locked onto the senior cultivator.
The pink petals of the hundred-year-old peach trees drifted lazily through the atmosphere, landing softly upon the dark wood and stone, yet the ambient peace of the garden could not mask the intense, undercurrent friction of the meeting.
