The literature hall did not merely fall silent.
It held its breath.
Every drifting book froze mid-flutter.
Every scroll suspended in the air ceased movement.
Even the ink that had been dripping from unseen heights into swirling characters… paused like a raindrop suspended between heaven and earth.
Shaurya sat across from the Guardian Spirit at the round, ancient table.
The chessboard between them glowed faintly, pieces pulsing with consciousness — as if even they wished to witness the debate of minds.
Lin Shu and the disciples stood at the edge of the hall, unmoving, reverence straightening their spines.
The Guardian Spirit rested his elbows lightly on the table.
He did not look like a simple old man now.
His presence expanded — wide as a library with no walls, deep as a thought that never ends.
When he spoke, his voice did not echo.
It simply arrived everywhere at once.
---
"First question."
The flames of torches leaned toward him.
The books drifted slightly closer.
