Feng Liang stood tall in the center of the grand hall, surrounded by the ten elders, their eyes filled with suspicion and hostility.
Directly in front of him stood the martial sage, Bu Zheng, sect master of the Beggars' Sect. The tension in the room was almost tangible, the air thick with the unspoken challenge that hung between them.
Despite the stares, Feng Liang appeared completely unfazed. His posture was relaxed, his expression calm, as though the weight of the world around him was nothing more than a fleeting breeze.
His torn, weathered robes fluttered slightly as the residual energy in the room swirled around him, but he remained unmoved.
With a casual air, Feng Liang spoke, his voice carrying effortlessly through the hall.
"I pay my respects to Sect Master Bu," he said, his words calm and composed, yet there was no accompanying bow or gesture of respect.
