Li rose from his seat with deliberate precision, his expression unreadable yet commanding attention. He took a moment to adjust his blazer, his movements as calculated as his words would soon be. When he spoke, his voice was steady, carrying the weight of generations.
"Legacy," Li began, his tone almost philosophical, "is neither built on wealth nor carved in stone. It is written in the currents of history, in the choices made by those who dare to see beyond their time. My family's legacy is not measured by the dynasties we've served or the centuries we've endured—it is defined by our vision."
The room quieted further, if such a thing was even possible. Even Gretha, who had just shattered the atmosphere with her stark words, tilted her head slightly, intrigued.