Heavenly Palace Hall
The towering pillars of the grand hall seemed to tremor with each thunderous footfall as Elder Zhang Wei made his approach. He knelt before the imposing throne, head bowed so low his brow nearly brushed the gleaming marble.
Upon that ceremonial seat materialized a figure swathed in regal robes—the unmistakable presence of the sect's Patriarch. Zhang Wei's shoulders tightened as the Patriarch's fingers closed around the delicate wineglass cradled in his palm, the crystal shattering with a brittle crunch.
"You failed?" The words dropped like a death sentence in the oppressive silence.
Cold sweat beaded Zhang Wei's brow as he struggled to find the words to placate his lord's fury. "H-He's already at the peak of Soul Formation, and his divine sense is likely stronger than even mine. He's even erected an immensely powerful array around his sect. I...I couldn't forcefully breach it."
