CHAPTER 87 — THE PRICE OF A NAME
The Ling Clan's Grand Hall had not seen silence like this in decades.
A circular chamber carved from blackstone, its walls etched with the clan's ancient sigils, it was designed to amplify authority. Every word spoken within carried weight. Every pause felt deliberate. Even the air itself seemed tense, heavy with restrained hostility.
Twelve elders sat along the inner ring.
High-ranking members. Patriarch elders. War elders. Lineage keepers.
At the head of the hall stood the Ling Clan Patriarch.
Ling Yifan's father.
His hands rested behind his back. His posture was rigid, disciplined, immovable. His face showed no rage. No grief. Only something far colder.
Disappointment.
An elder slammed his palm against the stone table.
"THIS HAS GONE TOO FAR."
The sound echoed sharply.
