Chapter 10 THE FOUR PILLARS OF THE ACADEMY

"Time is up sirs, they should be out any moment now" back at the hall where the entrance of the pocket dimension is located, Sylvester suddenly spoke up in a respectful manner as he put his attention on the three aged men and a middle aged woman who stood beside him. One of the aged men was the same man who stood with Sylvester six hours ago who apparently doesn't same to have shifted his position out of that place since that time. As for the second aged man, he stood with an imposing presence, his figure exuding both strength and intensity despite the years that had etched lines of experience into his rugged face. His hair, a wild mane of fiery red streaked with silver, framed his face like a crown of flames, hinting at a youth spent in constant action and vigor. Thick, bushy eyebrows of the same fiery hue arched over eyes that blazed with a fierce, unyielding light.His eyes, a striking amber, seemed to burn with an inner fire, reflecting both a passionate spirit and a lifetime of hard-won wisdom. They were eyes that missed nothing, sharp and penetrating, capable of intimidating even the bravest of souls. When he spoke, his voice was a deep, resonant growl, each word imbued with authority and fervor.The man's skin, weathered and tanned from years spent in the sun and elements, was marred with scars, each one telling a story of battles fought and adversities overcome. His jawline was strong and determined, covered with a rough, grizzled beard that matched the fiery hue of his hair, giving him a rugged, almost primal appearance.He wore a leather vest over a coarse linen shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular, sinewy arms marked with tattoos that spoke of ancient symbols and personal victories. His hands, calloused and strong, seemed capable of both great violence and tender care. Around his neck hung a simple yet significant pendant, a small, fiery gemstone set in a crude metal frame, glowing faintly with a warmth that mirrored his inner fire.His attire was practical and worn, with sturdy trousers and heavy boots that had seen countless miles. A belt adorned with various pouches and tools encircled his waist, each item precisely placed for quick access. Despite his age, his posture was upright and commanding, radiating a sense of unwavering resolve and fiery determination. The fiery aged man was a living testament to the power of a passionate spirit and an indomitable will. His presence was a beacon of strength and fervor, inspiring both respect and a sense of awe in all who encountered him. The middle-aged lady stood with an air of aloof elegance, her presence as cold and unyielding as a glacier. Her skin was porcelain pale, almost luminescent in its smooth, flawless perfection, devoid of warmth or color. High, aristocratic cheekbones framed a face that was both beautiful and stern, with sharp features that seemed carved from ice. Her eyes, a piercing shade of icy blue, held a chilling intensity. They were the kind of eyes that could freeze a person in their tracks, devoid of emotion and empathy, observing the world with a detached, almost clinical scrutiny. Her gaze was unflinching and penetrating, as if she could see through the very essence of anyone who dared to meet her eyes. Her hair, silver with hints of frost, was impeccably styled, swept back into an elegant chignon at the nape of her neck. Not a single strand was out of place, reinforcing the impression of meticulous control and unapproachable perfection. The few tendrils that escaped the bun framed her face like strands of spun ice. She wore a fitted, high-collared coat of deep, wintry blue, its fabric shimmering faintly as though woven with frost. The coat fell to her ankles, tailored to accentuate her slender, statuesque figure, and was fastened with silver clasps shaped like snowflakes. Underneath, she wore a simple yet elegant dress of the same icy hue, its lines clean and severe. Her hands, encased in sleek, leather gloves, were always poised and controlled. She wore minimal jewelry, save for a single, striking brooch pinned to her collar—a large, flawless sapphire surrounded by a ring of tiny, glittering diamonds, reminiscent of ice crystals. Her demeanor was one of absolute composure and authority. When she spoke, her voice was cool and measured, each word delivered with precision and a touch of frost. There was no room for warmth or familiarity in her tone; she commanded respect through her sheer presence and unyielding demeanor. The aura around her was palpably cold, as if she carried the chill of a perpetual winter. Her movements were graceful yet deliberate, each step exuding confidence and an almost regal detachment. She was a figure of serene, icy beauty, commanding both awe and trepidation in those who encountered her. This middle-aged lady was the embodiment of an ice queen, her very presence capable of freezing the air around her. She was a paragon of control, elegance, and an unapproachable chill, a living testament to the power and beauty of cold austerity. "You..." Cao muttered with a furious look on his face as he pointed at the middle aged lady. But the lady didn't seem to care at this point as she has already put her attention back on the entrance of the pocket dimension. 'I can't believe the four pillars of the academy actually came here in person just to see the result of this exam. This is just unbelievable' Sylvester thought with a wry smile on his face. But right at this moment, the aged man who has been with Sylvester the earliest suddenly spoke up in a calm tone. "Look alive guys, they are coming out"