The hall had not changed.
That was the first thing he noticed.
Polished jade tiles stretched beneath towering pillars carved with coiling beasts, their eyes inlaid with faintly glowing spirit-stones. Incense drifted lazily through the air, sharp and medicinal, clinging to silk robes and steel alike. Banners hung high, colors bold, symbols proud. Every clan that mattered had left its mark here.
He paused at the threshold.
Beyond it waited elders, heirs, spectators, rivals. Applause. Judgment. Expectation.
And somewhere inside that hall was a presence he had not faced in years.
His fingers tightened around the hilt at his waist. Not in fear. Not in anticipation.
In recognition.
It was strange, how the body remembered things the mind refused to name. The way his breathing adjusted, the way his stance shifted almost imperceptibly, as if preparing for a strike he had learned long ago.
He exhaled slowly.
This was not the past.This was not childhood.This was a formal gathering between sects that had long since learned to smile while sharpening knives.
Whatever once existed was buried now.
The attendant announced his name.
The doors opened.
And the hall turned its gaze toward him.