Deep within the hidden, subterranean training halls of the Fragrance Melody Sect, the air was thick with the scent of burning incense and the heavy, oppressive aura of profound cultivation. The vast underground chamber, carved from solid permafrost rock and reinforced with countless defensive arrays, served as the ultimate crucible for Wang Jian's most insidious creations.
Wang Jian sat luxuriously upon a massive, plush couch upholstered in the finest spirit-beast furs, positioned at the elevated head of the training hall. He was impeccably dressed in his pristine white scholarly robes, projecting an aura of absolute, tyrannical authority. His dark, starlit eyes slowly panned across the room, analyzing the flawless, highly cultivated appearances of the very first fully matured batch of sixty covert spies standing in perfect, rigid formation before him.
