The Outer Hall sat above the training fields like a watching eye.
Stone steps led upward, lined with pillars carved with river patterns and iron motifs, symbols of the sect's pride.
Inside, the air was cooler.
Cleaner.
And heavier with invisible pressure.
Marcus and Lin entered together.
A row of outer elders sat behind a long table. Their robes were plain compared to inner elders, but their faces carried the same expression: patience without kindness.
One elder leaned forward.
"Marcus," he said, tasting the name.
"You were crippled."
Marcus didn't deny it.
"I was."
The elder's eyes narrowed.
"And now you're not."
Marcus said nothing.
Silence stretched.
Then another elder spoke, voice colder.
"Your son's meridians were sealed."
Lin stiffened.
The elder's gaze pinned him.
"That seal should not loosen."
Lin's breath grew shallow.
Marcus stepped forward.
"It loosened," Marcus said calmly.
The first elder tapped the table once.
A sharp sound.
"Who did it?"
Marcus replied without hesitation.
"I did."
The hall fell silent again.
But this silence wasn't disbelief.
It was a calculation.
One elder exchanged a glance with another.
Then the elder at the centre spoke.
"Then you understand what this means."
Marcus met his gaze.
"It means someone in your sect sabotaged my son," Marcus said.
The elder's expression didn't change.
"That is an accusation."
Marcus's voice stayed even.
"It's a fact."
A long pause.
Then the elder leaned back slightly.
"Prove it."
And at those words, the room's pressure shifted.
Not like an argument.
Like a door opening into something dangerous.
Lin felt it, too.
His hands clenched.
Marcus glanced at him once.
Not reassurance.
Not comfort.
A simple look that said: Stand.
Lin inhaled.
Then stepped forward.