DONG! DONG! DONG!
On Golden Spring Mountain.
Loud, urgent chimes rang out again and again, piercing the mountain mist and echoing between the peaks.
Each toll was more frantic than the last, carrying an unprecedented sense of alarm that had none of the peaceful, distant quality of the usual morning and evening bells.
Inside the Great Heroic Hall, the atmosphere was incredibly tense.
Abbot Kongxu of Golden Spring Temple sat high on the lotus platform. Below him, the entire core leadership was present: Kongjian, First Seat of the Precepts Institute; Xuanming, First Seat of the Arhat Hall; Xuan Ku, First Seat of the Bodhi Institute; and Chu Kuangfeng.
Every face was grim, their brows clouded with a worry that would not dissipate. The smug satisfaction they had felt from suppressing the Three Sects had been utterly washed away by the immense pressure of the coming storm.
"We've miscalculated."
Monk Kongjian's face was grim, his voice hoarse.
