A Week Later
The southern region's capital had regained its former tranquility, yet beneath the calm surface, a storm of whispers swirled through the streets, tea houses, and marketplaces.
The destruction of the Golden Pavilion and the Seven Talisman Trade Hall still lingered like the fading echo of thunder after a mighty storm.
People spoke of it in hushed tones, casting glances over their shoulders as if the shadows might overhear them.
Of the four once-mighty chambers that had ruled the capital with an iron grip, three now lay in ruin, their influence obliterated almost overnight.
The Thousand Wealth Chamber was the common thread in all of these events—a ghostly blade hidden in a silk sheath.
Their quiet, decisive strikes had shattered giants without so much as breaking stride.
Only the Broken Moon Consortium remained untouched, and everyone knew why.
