The door creaked open slightly. A tall man with lean muscles and a notable goatee peered through the gap, his sharp gaze settling on Hao.
He gave a curt nod before widening the door, allowing them entry. Hao returned the nod and led Northern inside the city hall.
The place was alive with movement. Tables were scattered across the hall, groups huddled together in hushed conversations, their faces marred by a dark, gloomy resolve. Tension pressed against the walls, thick enough to choke.
The city hall itself was a striking contrast to the atmosphere—an expansive, laminated structure bathed in the soft glow of white light from ornate lamps hanging from the ceiling. The walls, though built of brick, were draped in thick blue curtains tapered with gold edges and adorned with the city's insignia, a clear declaration of its role as a center of trade.
