The escort led me through corridors that grew quieter the deeper we moved into the main compound. Azure Phoenix architecture favored open spaces and high ceilings, yet the path we took felt deliberately narrowed, as if the building itself had decided to listen. The mark on my right hand remained a dull heat beneath the skin. I kept the hand relaxed at my side and the cursed energy around it carefully muted.
The closed hall was smaller than the grand negotiation chamber. Dark wood panels absorbed sound. A single long table of black stone occupied the center. Clan Lord Feng Wuyuan sat at the far end. Feng Lan stood to his right rather than sitting, her posture perfect, her crimson hair now dry and bound in a formal style that gave no hint of the soaked robe she had worn less than an hour earlier. Two silent elders flanked the walls. No servants. No scribes.
The door sealed behind me with a heavy finality.
