A ragged, strangled roar tore from Patriarch Morvane’s throat as the reality of his ruin snapped his mind.
Standing on the peaked roof shingles above the shattered canopy, he gripped the hilt of his heavy broadsword until his knuckles turned ashen.
Below him on the high balcony of Booth Nine, the boy in the plain bathrobe sat completely unbothered, sipping warm jasmine tea while nine golden rings revolved quietly above his head.
“Kill them!” Morvane shrieked, his voice cracking into a shrill, hysterical pitch that echoed across the vast iron rafters. “All sect leaders in this hall, listen to my command! White-Lotus Academy has colluded with rebel vermin to commit high treason!”
The fallen patriarch pointed his trembling blade down toward the central auction floor.
Two hundred elite guards from the Four Great Pill Houses raised their poleaxes and shields, their armor clattering in ragged disorder.
“By ducal decree and the sacred authority of the Imperial Censorate, I order a general purge!” Morvane bellowed, spittle spraying from his lips. “Cut down Kaelen Vance! Cut down every White-Lotus dog! Any sect that hesitates will be branded traitors and exterminated to the ninth generation!”
A heavy, uneasy silence fell across the floor.
