Han Yu stepped into the Mission Hall, and the familiar chaos greeted him at once.
The interior was vast, supported by thick stone pillars engraved with blood soaked runes that pulsed faintly under the ambient blood Qi.
The noise was constant and layered. Disciples argued with clerks, shouted demands for urgent missions, boasted about completed tasks, or cursed under their breath when rewards were lower than expected. The air smelled of iron, sweat, ink, and faint medicinal residue.
At the far end of the hall, a massive formation wall hovered in midair, its surface filled with shifting mission slips made of condensed light. Names, difficulty grades, and rewards flickered endlessly as missions were taken down and new ones were posted.
Han Yu did not waste time observing. He scanned the counters quickly and chose one that appeared slightly less busy than the rest. Slightly being the key word.
There were still around fifty disciples in line.
