As Zhang Chunyang finished speaking, the whole grand hall fell into a dead silence.
The Grand Elder's fists were clenched tightly in his sleeves, his knuckles already turning white.
Below, the bronze token at Qin An's waist trembled incessantly, and the voices of the crowd surged into his mind like a tide.
Wuo Lin's transmitted voice was crisp and decisive: "Are you coming or not?"
Liao Yang: "This matter is suspicious, not sure what medicine Zhang Chunyang is selling in his gourd."
The patrolling bronze officers discussed among themselves: "If we don't go, we might miss a good opportunity, but if we go, we fear that demons will take advantage of the situation..."
Qin An squinted slightly, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the handle of the Cold Star Saber.
He infused his True Qi into the bronze token, replying with just one decisive word.
"Come."
The bronze token immediately returned to silence.
