Yunzhou, Qin Country's Prime Pavilion.
Zhao Wei is already an elder whose hair has turned completely frosty white. He sits steadily at the head of the pavilion, his gaze still as sharp as an eagle's, sweeping across his colleagues in the room, his voice steady and determined:
"Everyone, Qin Country has reached the brink of life and death. If that Heaven-Swallowing Flood Dragon is allowed to continue its rampant growth, it will become Qin Country's nightmare."
Having spoken, his eyes are like torches, waiting for the crowd's response.
In the hall, the Royal Martial Artists looked at each other, all silent, the atmosphere so heavy it seemed as though it could freeze water into ice.
