The Rhythm of the Collapse

The 108 key figures of the race were all present, their gazes fixed on Braydon Neal with respect. 

Some of them, however, looked at the little fool with gritted teeth and clenched fists, as if they wanted to take him down.

"Brother, I'm a bit scared!" Luke Yates mumbled, standing behind his brother and nervously touching the golden bagpipe at his waist. 

Even the little fool, who was usually fearless, could sense the hostility in the room.

Braydon stood in front of the palace door with an impassive expression. 

These people wanted to flaunt their power? 

It was to be expected.

Suddenly, Chadwick Neal rose from his seat, his black robe radiating an imposing aura. 

As he stood, so did everyone else, their expressions growing serious. 

The invisible pressure made the little fool shrink back behind his brother.

Braydon remained unfazed. 

With a powerful burst of aura, he asserted his dominance.