Stunned, Wu Chenglin looked down at the scattered remains of the mech, struggling to reconcile Wang Xuan's words with the scene before him. Suddenly, a downpour washed away a severed hand from the rooftop, narrowly missing his head and landing at his feet. The chill that ran down Wu's spine was not from the rain but the stark reality of the destruction.1

Wu Yin managed to hold her composure, her gaze following Wang Xuan and Qing Mu as they retreated into the shadows. Nearby, some of the roused guests had varied reactions. Some women shrieked, their voices echoing sharply against the backdrop of the rainy night.2

Wang Xuan had no time for explanations. His keen senses detected several intruders in the manor. He and Qing Mu proceeded stealthily, their hefty cannon in tow, ready to face any potential Master-level threats. But their caution might have been misplaced. Despite its rapid advancement, the New Arts did not boast many Grandmasters. The losses they suffered on the Pamir Plateau were still fresh wounds.0

It was unlikely that the top figure from the New Arts faction, visiting this old land, would be accompanied by another Master. Such high-profile companionship would be too conspicuous, drawing unnecessary attention. Soon...0