The valley-hall had gone eerily quiet.
Dust drifted through the fractured air like dying embers.
Beast corpses lay scattered across the stone fields.
Far beyond the cracked terrain, royal guards regrouped, weaker sects backed away, and Cultivators scrambled to heal themselves and helping those who had collapsed.
But in the very center of the battlefield—
Two figures stood facing one another.
Shaurya…
and Shadow Blade An Ning.
They didn't speak.
Didn't blink.
Didn't even breathe loudly.
It was the kind of stillness that made the entire realm feel smaller.
The kind that made the atmosphere tighten, as if the secret realm itself was holding its breath.
Golden aura curled faintly around Shaurya's shoulders.
Black shadow-like spiritual wind coiled around An Ning's boots.
A single spark between them could ignite a war.
The spark came—
when both of them smiled.
Not politely.
Not arrogantly.
But like two predators acknowledging each other.
And then—
They roared.
