Qi Yin sat on the Sect Leader's throne, a throne that seemed to be a menacing beast growing from the abyss of darkness, exuding a chilling aura. He resembled a statue cast in ice, emanating an awe-inspiring majesty that demanded respect.
The black robe he wore was akin to flowing ink, profound and mysterious, with golden enigmatic runes glimmering more eerily under the dim light, reminiscent of a demon's eyes, cheering for the impending slaughter.
