Inside the Inheritance Hall, the blaring warnings continued to echo without pause.
"ERROR! ERROR!"
The voice was neither loud nor soft, neither angry nor alarmed, yet the repetition itself carried an oppressive weight. It reverberated through the stone walls, through the pillars, through the blood flames that flickered erratically in midair.
Tens of thousands of Blood Script runes flew in wild, intersecting trajectories, colliding with one another like schools of panicked fish.
Yet outside the hall, nothing changed.
The world beyond the Inheritance Peak remained calm, orderly, and eerily ignorant of what was unfolding at the very heart of the sect. The jiangshi lining the mountain paths stood unmoving, their lifeless eyes fixed forward, weapons resting in skeletal hands.
Their formations did not waver. Their postures did not shift. Even the cold wind sweeping across the peak moved as it always had.
No alarm was raised.
No warning bell rang.
