When she pushed open the heavy double doors of the union's top-floor council hall, the atmosphere inside was near the boiling point.
The room was still packed with the senior elders and Union Head Meng De, their faces illuminated by the frantic, flickering lights of dozens of messaging talismans floating in the air.
The news of the Cao Clan's unprecedented midday sales had only grown worse.
"Miss Ruolan!" Meng De slammed his hands onto the table, his eyes locked onto her disheveled, ash-stained appearance.
The room fell into a deathly, expectant hush.
"You've returned! What is the status? Did the enforcers secure the Tang Clan's herb convoy? Speak to us!"
Every elder leaned forward, their eyes filled with a desperate, pathetic hope.
Ruolan stood in the doorway for a long breath, her tattered robes whispering against the floorboards.
She looked at the head treasurer, the man who had proudly orchestrated the destruction of the Peng clan, and saw him sweating profusely.
