Just as the silence started pressing too hard against Lui Xian's ears, the doors at the far end of the hall opened.
And he walked in.
Not just some teacher or generic instructor. No. This man owned the room the moment his boots tapped against the floor. His presence alone dropped the temperature.
He was tall, lean, and built like the silence before a thunderstorm. His hair was short, almost white—not the old-man kind of white, more pure, like snow. Eyes so pale they were almost silver, rimmed with shadows like sleep hadn't been a friend in years.
His long coat trailed behind him, and his steps were measured, like every second was pre-planned. He didn't speak right away, just stood there on the raised dais, watching them all with a cold detachment.
When he did speak, his voice were cold as ice.
"My name is Cael Orin," he said, hands behind his back. "You don't need to remember that."
Silence.
He scanned the room, gaze slicing across them like a scalpel.
