Back within the Inheritance Hall, the consequences were fully manifest.
The Stelae blazed.
All the energy rerouted from the sect's vast array network poured into the monolith, flooding the hall with dense red mist. It billowed outward, thick and suffocating, swallowing the pillars, the walls, the blood flames themselves.
Visibility dropped to nothing.
One could not see their own hand, even if it were pressed against their face.
Han Yu's form vanished completely, lost within the crimson fog.
At the very center of the mist, something stirred.
The runes that remained no longer moved independently. They converged, aligning into a massive, intricate sigil that hovered above where Han Yu sat. The air there warped, bending inward as if space itself were being folded.
A pressure descended.
Not spiritual or physical, but something deeper.
Older.
A presence began to take shape, vast and indistinct, as though an ancient gaze were opening for the first time in countless ages.
