Chapter 207 Grind
Clara and Thea glanced around the grand inner compound of the Austere Clan, their eyes scanning the neat rows of ancient pavilions and cultivated gardens. They didn’t have to look long.
Standing at a distance, statuesque and poised, was Veronica.
Before either of them could react, several clan servants, dressed in the signature black and silver robes of the Austere Clan, approached with crisp bows. Their demeanor was cold and formal, yet efficient, reflecting the discipline the clan was known for.
"This way, honored guests," one of them said, gesturing toward a winding stone path.
Clara and Thea exchanged a glance before following silently. The atmosphere grew heavier with each step, not just from the imposing architecture, but from a tangible weight in the air—an invisible force pressing gently against their shoulders.
As they entered a wide courtyard enclosed by tall, ancient walls, the sensation grew so intense that Thea stumbled slightly. A gasp escaped her lips.
"Ahhh..." she whispered, instinctively clutching her chest. "What is this pressure?"
Clara’s brows drew together as she steadied her friend. "It’s spiritual pressure," she murmured. "It’s powerful... overwhelming even."
They didn’t need to guess whose it was.
At the center of the courtyard stood Veronica, calm and unmoving, as though she had been waiting for them all along. Her presence was like a blade sheathed in silk—graceful yet impossibly dangerous. The oppressive pressure that filled the space came from her alone.
She looked unchanged, yet entirely different. Time and cultivation had transformed her. Her eyes, once sharp with youthful ambition, now carried the serene depth of someone who had seen the peak of mountains others could only dream of climbing.