The thin, razor-sharp smile on Utusan Lin’s face deepened, a predatory gleam in his violet eyes. He crushed the black silk scroll in his hand, the rustling fabric a paltry sound against the roaring ambition in his soul. The messenger, a junior agent cloaked in the drab robes of the inner sect, shivered, backing away from the palpable wave of power that emanated from Lin.
"So," Lin murmured, his voice a low, satisfied purr, "the ancient legends were not mere fairy tales. The Spirit Cloud Sect has been sheltering a much grander secret than they ever realized. And our patience, it seems, has been richly rewarded."
He looked up, his violet eyes fixed on the distant, eastern horizon, where the Spirit Cloud mountain was a faint, hazy silhouette against the setting sun. A surge of exhilarating
