The tolling of a great bell, its sound vast and profound.
The sound rose from the depths of Taixu Hall, piercing clouds and cracking stone. It surged, vast and mighty, sweeping across the Wuji Holy Sect's three hundred-plus Spirit Veins and its thousands of grotto-mansions and pavilions.
Nine tolls of the bell—the highest rite for summoning the Masters to a council.
Streaks of Escape Light—some brilliant, some dim, some sinister—rose from various mountain peaks. They streaked across the still-overcast Northwest sky, descending toward the heart of the Holy Sect: Taixu Hall.
The hall was majestic, its frame built from Ten Thousand Years Profound Iron and its tiles from Nether Ancient Black Jade. Its eaves were like swords pointing at the sky, the entire structure exuding the cold, heavy majesty of the Demon Dao.
The Masters stepped inside one after another.
The sound of their footsteps echoed in the vast, empty hall.
Faint, yet distinctly audible.
