There was a thick barrier of spells that coated the stairs but the key helped Yuan Xuelan advance unimpeded. The top floor was open to the gusting winds outside, with no walls to separate the interior from the balcony.
An array was painted into the floor and eight ceramic urns stood around the open space in a wide circle with Zhao Fanyu at its center.
Under normal circumstances, Yuan Xuelan might have been more interested in the details of the spells and set up around him, but he narrowed his focus on the Wayward Wind Sect Leader that stood quietly at the center of everything.
"What's all this about?" He shouted, raising his voice about the howling winds that whipped their hair in chaotic waves.
Zhao Fanyu did not answer. He did not look up either and when Yuan Xuelan took in his countenance, all he saw was a man dead on his feet.
