He turned from the slab and scanned the crowd until he found them.
Xu Wen stood a few paces away, reading the list with a calm expression. He was average height, plain face, eyes steady. The kind of man who didn't draw attention but noticed everything.
Zhao Yuming was easier to spot.
He stood with his arms crossed, jaw tight, gaze fixed on the slab like he wanted to carve the names off it. His robes were neat, his sword polished. His cultivation felt solid—Seventh or Eighth, compressed.
He looked like someone who had worked hard for his rank and hated that an outsider was climbing too near it.
He Lian—low-rank—stood behind them, half-hidden, wearing a faint smile that didn't reach his eyes. His gaze flicked from Lin Tian to Zhao Yuming and back, measuring.
Bait.
Lin Tian felt it immediately. He Lian had the subtle hunger of someone who wanted advantage more than dignity.
The three men approached in slow, careful steps, as if closing distance was a negotiation.
