High above the illusionary realm, the four figures hovered in silence — their gazes piercing through the boundless golden plane below, where chaos and brilliance intertwined.
"This is… unexpected," Baotian murmured, his sharp eyes fixed on Yu Xuan's figure carving through disciples like a storm of crimson light.
"But I don't like his character, Grand Elder," Wuji said coldly, his tone laced with disdain.
"He's too arrogant, killing fellow disciples without a single though."
"We did say only one would remain alive," Fang Wu replied evenly.
"Perhaps that's why he's acting this way."
"No," the Martial Ancestor's deep voice interrupted, calm but firm.
"That boy already knows the truth, that these deaths are an illusion."
The other three turned toward him in surprise.
"How can that be, Ancestor?" Baotian frowned.
