Feng Liang stood, his gaze firmly fixed on Bu Zheng, whose once proud form now seemed so fragile.
The Martial Sage struggled to hold onto the last remnants of his composure, his mind grappling with the sheer enormity of the power he had just witnessed.
Bu Zheng had known strength... had been revered for it. But this… this was different. He had never encountered a force like this before.
His breath caught in his throat as Feng Liang, exuding an air of casual authority, rose from his throne and began to walk toward him.
Each of Feng Liang's footsteps reverberated through the silent hall, the sound somehow soft yet commanding.
The elders dared not move, still bowed low to the ground. Bu Zheng's mind raced, but his body remained frozen in place, his knees locked and his head bowed.
As Feng Liang drew closer, his voice echoed through the chamber, calm yet filled with purpose.
