The formation split apart, a solemn authority filled the air.
Amulet Boy unfolded the Yellow Turban and spread out the Imperial Seal.
The sunlight was just right, with gold-rimmed white clouds drifting by, casting faint shadows below. Dashun's flags were as dense as a forest, a pole every ten steps, a line every five, pointing swords at the heavens. Occasionally someone passed under the flags, lightly flipping the flag corners.
Envoys from various nations busily discussed, their gazes jumping from Dashun's Liang Qu in the east to Northern Court's Haruhan in the west, then leaping back, arguing fiercely about who would win or lose.
In the midst of the noise,
a gaunt old man like iron walked out from within the hall, standing at the corner of the fabric, seeming to have a flash of grey light passing over the gossamer surface.
Mr. Mo?
