The great bronze bell of the Myriad Spirit Safe hall didn’t strike with the jarring, bone-shaking clang of an alarm.
Cast from ancient bronze and infused with Lin Xiao’s pure water-origin deep ring, the bell emitted nine long, ringing chimes that rippled through the misty morning air like the sonorous call of a temple gong across a calm mountain lake. The sound washed over the terraced orchards, the steaming hot spring pavilions, and the lower dark rock cliffs. He carried no fear—only a clear call for purposeful assembly.
Within minutes, the central council chamber atop the Floating Mountain was filled.
The chamber was an open-air pavilion supported by sixteen pillars of stone-hard spirit cedar, overlooking the endless sea of clouds that blanketed the world below. Around an eighty-foot circular table of polished purple sandalwood sat the core leaders of the safe hall.
Tie Shan, his broad, soot-stained chest bare despite the high-sky chill, leaned his massive forearms against the table, his blacksmith’s hammer resting against his chair like an iron dog. Gu Qingfeng sat cross-legged on the stone railing, an unstrung wooden sword balanced across his knees as he chewed on a stalk of dried mountain grass. Xiao Long, the nine-clawed azure flood dragon, was coiled gracefully in a shallow water trough built into the floor. His rainbow-bright sapphire horns glowed with faint rain-mist.
