The subterranean rumble slowly subsided into the deep mountain bedrock, leaving behind the faint smell of cold sulfur and ancient iron.
Chu Lingxiao’s Nine-Phoenix Immortal Sword continued to emit a low, defensive hum at her waist. Grandpa Jian stood beside her, his restored Peak Foundation aura radiating like an unsheathed blade, guarding the entrance of the newly consecrated Martyrs Tomb with unyielding vigilance.
“Tie Niu,” Lin Mo said into his communicator.
“Old Bull here, Chairman!” Tie Niu’s booming voice replied over the static.
“Deploy fifty Righteous Iron Guards to garrison the northern ridge,” Lin Mo instructed calmly. “Coordinate with Grandpa Jian and Master Lu Jian. Fortify the Memorial Hall with heavy defensive barriers and install seismic tremor sensors around the perimeter.”
“Understood, Chairman! We will secure every stone and protect the elder’s vigil!”
Lin Mo stepped back onto the golden shuttle with Su Wan and Old Master Mo. The sleek anti-gravity vessel lifted smoothly into the autumn air, gliding over the jagged Kunlun peaks toward the summit conference pavilion.
Down in the main hall of the Grand Palace, the atmosphere was thick with nervous anticipation.
