Shen Lang couldn't help but frown the moment he stepped into Songdu Peak Hall.
The hall was brightly lit. Five people were seated at the front, Wang Dashu among them.
Flanking them were two rows of uniformly dressed Punishment Hall disciples, each with a cold and stern expression.
Seated in the center was a plain-looking, middle-aged man in a black robe. Despite his ordinary appearance, his gaze was sinister and sharp, as cold as a blade, daring anyone to meet it.
To this man's right sat Wang Dashu, his face devoid of expression, lost in thought.
To Wang Dashu's right, an elder considerably older than him sat with his eyes closed, feigning sleep. His topknot and long beard were streaked with silver, and his face was a web of wrinkles, a testament to the passage of time.
To the middle-aged man's left, two elders of a similar age to Wang Dashu were locked in a heated, unending argument.
