The air was thick with sorrow as the Mo Sect gathered to honor the fallen. Their prayers echoed through the vast hall, a solemn melody of gratitude and grief. These warriors had given their lives so others could live, and their sacrifice would not be forgotten. The mourning period was brief, but the weight of loss lingered in the hearts of those who remained.
As the final prayers were whispered into the heavens, the crowd moved toward the grand hall of the Mo Sect. Jin Mo's heart pounded as he walked beside his mother, his gaze locked on the imposing structure before him. The sect hall was more than just a building; it was a symbol of the Mo family's legacy, a monument to centuries of power, struggle, and triumph. It loomed over him like a silent judge, its towering pillars adorned with intricate carvings that told the story of his ancestors. Though he had never stepped foot inside, an eerie familiarity washed over him, as if he had always been meant to stand here.
His mother walked ahead with quiet confidence, her presence a stark contrast to his uncertainty. Jin Mo followed her, pushing aside the lingering doubts that crept into his mind. Today was not a day for hesitation.
Upon entering the grand hall, he was met with a sight that took his breath away. The room was vast, its high ceilings adorned with golden chandeliers that bathed the chamber in a warm, almost regal glow. The walls were lined with banners bearing the Mo family's insignia, their deep crimson hues a stark reminder of the blood that had been shed to maintain their dominance.
At the center of the hall, standing in disciplined silence, were the most powerful figures of the sect—the Vice-Patriarch, the elders, the guardians, and the clan's most esteemed warriors. Among them stood Jin Mo's siblings, each one carrying themselves with the unmistakable air of nobility and strength. They were familiar faces, yet strangers in their own right, each having carved their own place within the sect's hierarchy. The weight of their gazes pressed down on him, silent judgments passed before a single word had even been spoken.
Beyond them, on the outskirts of the hall, stood the rest of the Mo Sect—guards, soldiers, and servants, all watching in silence. Their presence was a reminder that while power resided in the hands of the elite, it was upheld by the loyalty of those beneath them.
Then, the doors at the far end of the hall swung open, and an immediate hush fell over the chamber.
The Patriarch had arrived.
Jin Mo straightened his posture as his father strode forward, each step commanding the attention of everyone present. He moved with the ease of a man who had nothing to prove—his mere presence was enough to command obedience. He took his seat at the head of the chamber, a throne-like chair that seemed tailor-made for him, not just in form but in purpose. It was a seat of absolute authority, a testament to his position as the ruler of the Mo Sect.
The silence that followed was suffocating. The glow from the chandeliers cast long shadows over the room, flickering against the polished floors, adding to the intensity of the moment. Every individual present held their breath, waiting for the Patriarch's first words.
His sharp, calculating gaze swept across the hall, his expression unreadable. Then, his voice, steady and commanding, broke through the stillness.
"Did anything major happen while I was gone?"
The elders exchanged brief glances before responding in unison, their voices respectful yet firm. "Nothing major, Patriarch."
A simple "hmm" escaped his lips as he leaned back, his expression unreadable. Yet, the air in the room grew heavier, a subtle shift that did not go unnoticed.