It was like a giant beehive that had existed for years, the wasps only ever saw others tense up and avoid them when they left the nest, never imagining that someone would dare to punch into it with their fist.
About twenty people were seated in the courtyard, and even though they had just heard the outside protector's roar, the next moment, as the imposing and terrifying gates crumbled like rotting wood, several of them still froze in place, hands on their swords.
But as the gates truly groaned and loosened, the young man walked in, eyes fixed straight ahead.
A tumult of scolding and questioning broke out, a man with a dark face and a scarred cheekbeard pointed a long blade directly at him and demanded an answer, but the young man holding a sheathed sword remained silent, his gaze fixed on Longmen Tower, moving forward as if his legs were the only part of him still moving.
