The silence inside the deepest secret chamber of the Cloud-Peak Pavilion was heavy, a tangible weight that pressed against the eardrums. This was a space carved from the living rock of the mountain's heart, reinforced by layers of isolation arrays that cut it off from the rest of the world. The air here was thick, almost viscous, saturated with a density of spiritual Qi that would have crushed a mortal into paste. It swirled in visible currents of azure and white, drawn in from the surrounding miles by the high-grade Spirit-Gathering Array that Yue Lingshan had meticulously arranged.
In the center of this storm of energy sat Wang Jian.
