A jade pillar split the sky, thin as a needle but visible even from the deepest corners of Feilun Sect.
Like a beacon, it pulsed—once, then again—each thrum of light echoing into the spiritual network that bound heaven and earth.
Tian Shen didn't flinch. Standing at the cliffside, his robes swaying in the winds summoned by the Secret Realm's awakening, he simply watched. Behind him, the sect stirred.
Bells rang softly—three chimes in harmony. Not an alarm, but a signal. A call to readiness, not war.
Footsteps approached.
Feng Yin stood beside him again, eyes narrowed at the light.
This time, there was no tea in her hands. Just a scroll tucked beneath her arm and the faint scent of ink clinging to her sleeves.
"No one's denying it now."
She said.
"No," Tian Shen replied. "Now they'll race."
"Others already are."
...
In the observation hall, Elder Su stood before a massive projection dome—an ancient mechanism once used only during large-scale campaigns.
