"Let's go."
Fang Han straightened his robes, secured his Silver-Gray Longsword, and followed the disciple outside.
Leaving the courtyard, the two walked one after the other along the bluestone path toward the mountain's peak.
The afternoon sun was fierce. The ancient trees lining both sides of the mountain path had dense branches and leaves, casting large patches of deep shade.
The occasional long, drawn-out chirp of a cicada drifted from the woods.
The imposing silhouette of the Sect Leader's Hall soon appeared at the end of their path.
The disciples on duty before the hall's entrance saw Fang Han approaching and quickly stepped aside to clear the way.
Fang Han strode into the hall.
The hall was brightly lit, and a cool air permeated the space.
Chen Tianyuan was seated upright on the large chair at the head of the hall. He wore a set of dark cyan robes and had a refined, scholarly face.
