Damp cellar air smelling of sulfur and aged cedar welcomed the twelve cloaked figures beneath the Fourth Spire at midnight on Day 39.
The underground vault was lit by a single bronze oil lamp hanging from a rusted iron ceiling hook.
Twelve cultivators stood in a tight half-circle around a stone pillar, their faces hidden beneath gray woolen hoods and silver enameled masks.
Despite their disguises, their cultivation bases could not be entirely suppressed.
The faint, crackling pressure of twelve late and mid-stage Nascent Soul masters filled the cellar.
They were senior elders representing the First, Second, Fifth, and Sixth Towers.
For months, Grandmaster Volkov had hoarded the Conclave’s top-tier pills, funneling the purest medicinal cores to his inner circle of loyal enforcers. The rest of the council was left with flawed, low-purity batches.
With the annual Fire-Vein Trials only days away, these twelve elders were desperate.
