The night wind tore across the mountain ridges, howling like wolves hunting prey. Clouds gathered once more, though this time they bore no lightning—only a suffocating heaviness, as if heaven itself waited to see what Tian Shen would do next.
He stood at the eastern cliff until the stars began to fade. Below, the valleys crawled with torches—camps spreading, watchfires flickering like malignant stars across the land. The Dominion had not hidden their advance. They wanted the Feilun Sect to see, to tremble, to yield before the storm even struck.
But Tian Shen did not tremble. He turned his back on the camps and descended the cliff path. His footsteps were steady, each one echoing in the hollows of his mind.
...
By dawn, he stood before the Sect's inner gates, where the elders and division leaders had gathered.
