Seated within were the members of the Divine Council, a kaleidoscope of immortals: wizened elders with beards like flowing clouds, youthful figures radiant with fresh power, all draped in robes woven from celestial silk and adorned with jewels that pulsed with divine energy.
Yet despite their majesty, decorum had long fled the chamber. Voices clashed like thunder. Immortals shouted over one another, accusations flying, insults hurled like weapons. One particularly short council member, barely four feet tall, slammed a divine axe onto the table with a deafening crack, then leapt onto the polished surface, charging toward a towering immortal three times his size. The hall erupted in chaos.
And what was the argument about? Xue Wuheng's death.
