Silence.
An unparalleled silence.
The screen remained steady, the image frozen—no one spoke, no one looked away. Everyone stared at the broadcast, at the tall, round pillar on the right side of the frame.
Beside the pillar stood a figure in a green robe, hands clasped behind his back, facing away from all eyes.
Who?
Who is this?
People unconsciously held their breath. The once-chaotic and despairing Sinovera instantly fell quiet.
Tranquility.
Because the scene on the screen was tranquil.
November sunlight poured down from above, as if a gentle sea breeze stirred the air. The island's scenery was magnificent, set against a sky of pure blue. Sunlight shone on the ruined walls of Green Mountain Sect's deserted island, on the solitary pillar standing firm, and on the green robe billowing in the wind.
Time seemed to freeze.
All eyes were fixed on this scene.
A resolute, tranquil atmosphere swept across all of Sinovera.
The green-robed figure did not speak, nor did the people. It was as if no one dared raise their voice, for fear of disturbing a being from the heavens.
Such a mysterious scene truly stunned all the government officials. In truth, they only wanted to divert public attention and then find a chance to shut down the live war broadcast.
And then—
A gaze... hundreds... thousands... countless eyes converged on the green robe, which drifted clean and ethereal in the gentle sea breeze.
On that green robe—
Vast, majestic, carved with mountains and seas—three bold characters, Green Mountain Sect, seemed to burst through a thousand screens, drifting before everyone's eyes.
Green Mountain Sect!
Twenty-two years ago—Green Mountain Sect!
Even those who once knew nothing of Green Mountain Sect now recall its legend; the highest leader of Sinovera has already spoken its story to the nation.
In this moment.
Andrew Han stood in his green robe, hands clasped behind his back. He did not speak. No sound escaped him. He was like a crystal-diamond statue—eternal, unmoving—drawing the gaze of millions and silencing heaven and earth.
To wage war, words are unnecessary.
To risk one's life, vows are redundant.
Andrew remained silent, drawing a crystalline chip from his chest. It projected real-time data from Miles Ning’s wristwatch—numbers on the screen dwindled by the second. Andrew’s silence only deepened.
Master.
Wait a little longer. Let us look upon this world once more... Today, your disciple will slay the Black Dragon. Today, Green Mountain Sect shall rise again.
"Green Mountain Sect—"
"Our Green Mountain Sect!"
A cry seemed to echo in his heart, his mind roiling with thunder. Andrew lifted his gaze eastward, toward the endless horizon where sky met sea, and watched a mushroom cloud from an intercontinental missile slowly rise.
The Black Dragon.
Its arrival was imminent.
...
Jiangnan Province, Jiangnan City.
Beneath the commercial center’s giant screen, a middle-aged man who had been drinking heavily now dared not take another sip. Clutching half a bottle, he stared up at the massive display, afraid that even the sound of drinking might shatter the hard-won silence.
The surging crowd gathered there seemed frozen in time, every eye fixed and unmoving.
To the side.
Vivian Xu, Monica Zhang’s classmate and May Lin’s friend, stared in a daze at the image of Green Mountain Sect’s desolate island. “Why does this feel so familiar? That green-robed figure’s silhouette—I know it.”