While chaos brewed outside and onlookers marveled at a spontaneous street fight, Lin Mu sat at the heart of the storm, blissfully unaware of the city-wide disruptions his cultivation was causing.
And far below, in a hidden place beneath the floor of the Ember Hollow Hall, old formation plates began to glow with warning runes—the mechanisms struggling to regulate the sheer force of one man's cultivation.
While Lin Mu was busy causing damage to city infrastructure, Meng Bai's fight had just come to an end.
The crowd's cheers gradually faded as the arrogant young man staggered to his feet, face flushed with a mix of shame and fury. His clothes were torn, his sword dented at the tip, and his followers—clearly lacking courage—stood awkwardly at a distance, hesitant to intervene or even help him up.
He threw Meng Bai one last venomous glare, spitting blood to the side.
