The biting mountain wind, carrying fine ice crystals, swept across my cheeks and sent a sharp sting through my skin. I took a deep breath. The air was thick with concentrated spiritual qi, laced with an imperceptible trace of gunpowder. Looking around, the valley where the spirit crystal vein lay was already a sea of shifting heads. Flags from various sects fluttered and snapped in the wind, silently staking out their respective territories. Colorful Dharma robes contrasted with one another like blooming exotic flowers, yet they failed to conceal the undercurrents surging beneath them.
I tightly grasped Zhou Wan's hand, our fingers interlocked, and felt the faint coolness of her palms. The gazes of the surrounding cultivators swept over us—some curious, some scrutinizing, and others carrying undisguised hostility. I tried to remain calm, but my heart hammered like a beating drum inside my chest. Uncle-Master Zhao's death hung over me like an inescapable shadow.
School Leader Wang stood at the very front of our group. With his hands behind his back, his steady gaze swept forward, radiating an effortless authority that commanded respect. He tilted his head slightly and gave me an encouraging look. I nodded gently to show I understood.
Chapter 71