"Everyone's present, Master."
In a bright, gigantic hall, four people were respectfully standing in front of a young man with black hair. The young man sat on a gigantic throne, and two guards stood beside him. The two guards didn't move and acted like statues.
The four people were not happy to be here.
They already had an inkling of why their master had called them.
"The Myriad Sect is still alive?" the young man on the throne asked.
One of the four people stepped forward and bowed politely.
"Yes, Master. I apologize for our incompetence," he said deferentially.
The four people were only waiting for words of admonishment. Their Sect had been warring with the Myriad Sect for over 50,000 years by now.
This had been one of the longest wars that their Sect had ever been part of.
The four people felt stifled and frustrated.