Behind the Xian Sword Sect members came the monks of the Silent Lotus Temple, their bald heads catching the glow of the portal, their prayer beads clacking softly as they walked with serenity that contrasted the grim scene before them.
What awaited them on this side stunned even the most disciplined of them.
They had expected casualties.
They had expected to find some of their elders bloodied, perhaps some fallen, and the strike team exhausted from the battle. Yet as they poured into the plaza, their eyes widened. Not one of the hundred in the strike team bore so much as a wound.
Not one robe was stained with blood that was their own. Their faces were calm, their breathing steady. It was as if they had walked through the sect without resistance at all.
Murmurs spread among the arriving reinforcements.
"How could this be?" one disciple whispered.
"Were the elders of the Hidden Cave Sect weaker than we thought?" another asked.
