Meanwhile, back Han Family residence. Han Cui's forehead was pressed hard against the cold marble floor of the great hall.
The heavy scent of incense filled the air, but it couldn't cover the stench of panic and guilt that clung to him. His voice trembled as he bowed deeper, his old bones creaking beneath the weight of his fear.
"This lowly one… has failed to protect the Sword Shandian Sect's representatives. I beg the elders' forgiveness. Please… spare my family's name from ruin."
Behind him, servants and disciples knelt with their heads lowered, shivering. No one dared breathe too loudly.
The room was filled with men in long white and gold robes, their presence sharp and cold.
Every one of them radiated the faint hum of powerful spiritual energy.
These were not simple cultivators — they were immortals who had already stepped far beyond the reach of ordinary men.
