The grand hall of the Sixth Peak was nothing short of majestic. It soared upward, the ceiling lost in a swirl of spirit mist and golden formations, humming softly with spiritual energy. Velvet-red carpets embroidered with phoenix motifs rolled from the golden gates all the way to the elevated jade dais where Su Lan sat upon her throne—an ethereal beauty wrapped in a robe of blue and black silk, its sleeves fluttering without wind, revealing glimpses of her fair shoulders and smooth collarbone.
Soft gusts of spiritual wind gently played with her long, flowing robes — a misty blue ensemble trimmed with phoenix embroidery, ethereal in appearance, as though woven from mist itself. Her sleeves billowed gently even though the air inside was still, and her silken black hair, adorned with a single moon-pearl pin, cascaded like a waterfall over her shoulder.
