The overwhelming aura witnessed from afar upon first arriving on the island was quite different.
Standing in the First Hall, the legendary figures of the academy lacked that oppressive presence. But Zheng Qing knew that, much like the calm and clear weather inside the eye of a typhoon, sometimes what appears ordinary is far from it.
After releasing his third flame.
The young legend exhaled gently, glanced upwards, and felt slightly disappointed that the starry sky usually adorning the ceiling was absent today. Around him, the murals behind the surrounding corridors were obscured by heavy curtains. The vast hall housed only a handful of figures.
He lowered his eyelids, a faint red tint in his eyes, and upon reassessing the auditorium, he saw a completely different scene — the subtle auras belonging to legends formed distinct groups, segregating the hall into distinct patches of color. The legends occupied one half, leaving the other half for him.
So empty, yet so crowded.
