The disciples of Chenglin now dared not look their master in the eye, stealing only sidelong glances. They saw a smile in his eyes and the corners of his lips curling upward. He raised his thumb slightly, drew it across his throat, then pointed downward, the gesture laden with meaning.
In an instant, an aura of oppressive force surged around him like thunder. His hair seemed ready to dance in the wind, and every fellow disciple seated nearby felt the urge to flee. They knew that when their master flew into a rage, even the firmament could be torn open to the primordial chaos...
