The grand hall was silent as Adams and the Ashura king locked gazes, each refusing to yield even an ounce of dominance. Their unbroken eye contact cast an almost tangible weight across the hall, causing the gathered Ashuras to shift uneasily. The faintest flickers of expressions danced over their red-skinned faces—some were apprehensive, others wore faint sneers, and a few, particularly the generals, maintained stoic, unwavering masks. Adams, however, wore a small, knowing smile, his calm presence like a blade concealed in silk.