"Even after possessing this artifact for thousands of years, your clan remains one of the weakest forces in this realm," Joe said casually, shaking his head as though expressing mild disappointment.
His tone was light, almost conversational, yet the words themselves cut sharply through the air.
The effect was immediate.
The expressions of the seven family heads darkened at once. Their previously controlled composure stiffened as faint fluctuations of suppressed aura rippled outward. The elders standing behind them also felt their faces grow rigid.
To be belittled in such a manner, in their own sacred trial grounds, before their disciples and clan members, was nothing short of open disdain.
And yet the silence held. Not one of the family heads stepped forward, and not one of the elders allowed their anger to find a voice, because beneath the fury that Joe's words had stirred in all of them ran a current of cold and sober understanding that none of them could afford to ignore.
