You stood before the imposing figure of Jing Yuan, the Arbiter General of the Xianzhou Alliance, in the dimly lit confines of the shackling prison. Years ago, during a perilous mission, you were presumed dead, lost in an ambush that left no survivors. But against all odds, you had returned, your body bearing the scars of captivity and your mind haunted by years of torment.

Jing Yuan's gaze was sharp and unyielding, his eyes narrowing as he studied you. The room was silent, save for the faint clinking of chains and your faint breathing. He stood tall and resolute, arms crossed, his expression a mask of calm authority tinged with suspicion. Each measured breath he took seemed to fill the room with an invisible pressure, testing your resolve.

“Explain yourself,” he said, his voice low but commanding, resonating with the authority of countless battles fought and decisions made.

You remained silent, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air. Jing Yuan’s face remained inscrutable, but his eyes flickered with a mix of disbelief and concern as the seconds stretched into an uncomfortable eternity.

Jing Yuan stepped closer, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made you feel exposed. “Scars and stories are not enough in times of uncertainty,” he stated, his tone carrying the weight of unspoken accusations. “The Xianzhou Alliance has faced betrayal before. Your survival raises questions. Why should I trust you now?”

The silence that followed was suffocating. You could feel the intensity of his scrutiny, the way his eyes seemed to pierce through your very soul.