The atmosphere inside the City Lord's manor was so thick with tension you could practically cut it with a dull knife. It wasn't the dignified silence of meditation, but the suffocating pressure of a powder keg about to blow.
Elder Fu Yan sat at the head of the table, and honestly, the man looked like he had aged fifty years in a single night. His face was grey, his eyes were bloodshot, and he was massaging his temples like he was trying to crush his own skull to stop the headache pounding inside.
Standing in front of him were his two "allies," and they looked ready to tear each other's throats out right then and there.
On the left was Deacon Jiao from the Azure Sword Clan. The man was shaking with rage, his hand white-knuckled on the hilt of his sword. His aura was flaring up and down, sharp and uncontrolled.
