The air that greeted them was largely occupied with light dew and a chilling silence. When the glare of the teleportation faded, the survivors of the Liu Clan found themselves scattered across a glade so vast that mist veiled its edges. The earth beneath their hands was damp and fragrant, moss clinging to roots that looked older than their ancestors.
Somewhere far above, birds in the distance gave shrill, uncertain cries, as though startled by the clan's sudden arrival. For a long while, none spoke. The only sound was the rustle of wind through cedar and the faint groans of the wounded.
The teleportation had succeeded, but the aftermath had not been gentle.
Ning Xue staggered to her feet, her vision swirling and warping. The ground still pulsed faintly beneath her brown sandals, remnants of spiritual energy flickering like fireflies before dimming.
