Inside the Dust Valley, the sect master's villa hummed with quiet, restrained energy.
Mo Jian sat with his parents, the calm on his face belying the excitement rippling just beneath the surface.
Those who knew him well could sense the tension he managed to mask, the subtle tremor in his hands, the way his breathing steadied before every measured word.
"Son, what is with that expression?" Liu Zexian asked, her curiosity brightening her features as she studied him intently.
Her husband's gaze, too, fixed on his son with a mix of affection and perplexity.
Mo Jian looked from one parent to the other and took a slow, deliberate breath.
"Quick spill it. What is going on?" his father pressed, voice steady but edged with anticipation.
Turning to his parents, Mo Jian allowed a faint, almost imperceptible smile to cross his lips.
He spoke with careful clarity. "Father, Mother, do you ever think we can leave this continent?"
