The brass knocker struck the lacquered cedar portal of the Pavilion of Hundred Treasures with a heavy, ringing snap that echoed across the upper marble terrace.
Two sentries dressed in silver-plated chainmail crossed their halberds before the entrance, their sharp eyes dropping immediately to Caleb Conway’s chest. Common outer disciples were barred from setting foot within three hundred paces of this pavilion, as the transactions conducted inside dealt strictly with high tier artifacts and foundation treasures meant for sect nobility. Caleb did not break his stride, nor did he offer an explanation; he reached into his inner pocket and produced the golden plaque bound in polished brass, allowing the authentic seal of Deputy Master Ronald to catch the midday sun.
The sentries uncrossed the
