Shi Gaolin walked out with that same warrior's gait that made him look less like a Hungry Ghost disciple and more like a mortal Martial Grandmaster who had wandered into a demonic sect by mistake. The halberd in his hand dragged a faint line across the tiles, and his shoulders rolled as if loosening for a hunt.
Mei Lin arrived with the opposite energy, as hers was clean and measured. The sect's white-and-gold robes fit perfectly on her slender figure, hair tied high in a matronly bun along with firm eyes like cold water.
Even when the crowd cheered for her, she did not change her expression or demeanor, fully locked into the battle.
When Shi Gaolin released his aura, the temperature around him dropped rapidly, his Hungry Ghost Yin Power condensing close to his body rather than flaring wildly.
That was his style after all, compact and efficient in utility. He was not the type to consume heavy Yin Power with flashy Daoist arts.
