The golden barrier erected by Sect Master Zhao Tianxiao hummed with suffocating power, casting a dome of amber light over the northern edge of the arena platform.
Beneath that dome, seven Grand Elders gathered in a tight circle around the marble balustrade, their silk robes brushing against one another as they leaned in close. The roar of ten thousand spectators was reduced to a muffled thrum against the barrier, leaving the small enclosure thick with urgent, hushed voices.
"The transit papers are stamped with the seal of the Lower Basin Gate," Elder Gu whispered, his voice tense as he shoved the parchment toward the other magistrates. "If we open a formal inquiry into the needle, we must audit every shipment that passed through the warehouses along Miller Creek Road for the past six mon
