In the Celestial Tribunal, in the great hall, the Tribunal Venerable sat high on the golden throne, his face dark as the sky before a storm.
He released no pressure at all. Even so, the air in the entire great hall had gone rigid, to the point that drawing breath itself became hard.
In the middle of the great hall, more than a dozen celestial cultivators knelt. Their clothes were torn apart, and their bodies were covered in wounds. They were the same people who had fled back from Thunderpeak.
Gwendolyn's Winter's Reach had trapped them for less than an hour before the ice crystals shattered. But Jared and Gwendolyn had already left. All they could do was slink back to the Tribunal in disgrace.
"Magnus Storme... Is dead?" The Tribunal Venerable's voice was calm, calm in a way that crawled under the skin.
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