As the girl clasped her fingers, the black gloves pulled tight. Instantly, deafening drum beats burst in the air like frantic thunder. The explosion tugged at everyone’s hearts, turning into an irresistible rhythm. The bells on Bai Xi’s wrists shook, the broken yet crisp sounds joined together into the whistle of furious winds.
In an instant, there was thunder and wind, transforming into a melody with the rhythm. There was no overture, no buildup, and it surged from all directions without any warning. It was powerful like a thousand war stallions charging forward, majestic like a royal procession. The mousy girl seemed to have suddenly stepped before the throne. Her eyes were arrogant yet stern. Her expression was no longer playful but…pompous! School of Modifications: Pomp and Circumstance March, Movement One!