The roaring chaotic waves of the sudden civil war outside the celestial gates of the ancestral palace continued to violently rattle the foundation of the Seventh Heaven. Far below that raging conflict, inside the absolute privacy of the Cloud-Mist Pavilion, the air remained remarkably still and quiet.
Tony Clark stood calmly by the grand jade window, his hands casually tucked into the deep pockets of his dark hunting cloak. His physical posture was perfectly lazy, relaxed, and unhurried.
Yet, his newly reinforced 10th Class Grand Disciple magus foundation hummed with a deep, silent authority, the white-gold solar energy in his veins vibrating with a smooth, perfectly stable cadence.
