The grand Azure Origin Dao Sect's main hall remained charged with tension and endless whispers even as Bram was carried away, defeated and wounded but still burning with fiery pride.
Eleven princes of the Vernal Dawn royal family roamed the dynasty, each a formidable force — yet none wielded the authority to ignite war alone. It was clear: Bram's bruised ego and body could not unleash calamity without the backing of the dynasty elders.
Lyralei's eyes sharpened, resolute with cool confidence. Respect for the prince's rank did not breed fear in her heart.
If battle came, she was ready to meet it head-on.
A little aside from the storm's eye, Ethan inclined his head slightly and whispered, voice honed to a knife's edge, "Sixth Prince, knowing you still breathe, you should admit defeat, kneel, call me master, and surrender the puppet."
