The following dawn broke in muted gold, clouds scattered across the sky as if painted by the trembling hands of the heavens. The Feilun Sect bustled with an intensity that had not been seen in decades. Disciples poured across courtyards, sparring, strengthening formations, chanting incantations to reinforce the spiritual barriers that wrapped the mountain like invisible armor.
Everywhere Tian Shen walked, heads bowed. Not merely in respect, but in fear. His aura lingered around him, faint but undeniable, a predator's edge that pressed on even the most stalwart cultivators. He had begun to notice how footsteps stilled when he passed, how conversation broke into silence the moment his shadow fell across disciples.
It should have angered him. Instead, it left a hollow ache.
