At the first light of dawn, a solemn gong reverberated through the mist-shrouded basin of Taichu Sanctuary Valley.
Along the wide cobblestone avenues of the villa district, doors swung open in unison.
Fifteen hundred resident personnel assembled on the central Grand Merit Plaza, their footsteps echoing across the white-jade flagstones.
Among them stood Han Shan’s spirit-farmers in clean green smocks, their eyes bright with anticipation.
Beside them, Bai Ling stood with thirty white spirit-deer and azure cranes, the gentle beasts standing peacefully among the crowd without making a sound.
The three hundred quarry stonecutters, dressed in crisp dark-green Taichu uniforms, marched in disciplined formation behind Old Lao Shi.
Xiao Shi, the twelve-year-old former gate-sweeper, stood proudly at the eastern perimeter, clutching his broom-shaped Rank-4 Dust-Purging Spirit Staff like a seasoned sentinel.
Nearby, Liu Ruolan and her thirty sword guards stood in polished silver-green armor, their hands resting lightly on their pommels.
