The dust lingered.
Not violently anymore.
Not chaotically.
It drifted.
Slow, heavy clouds rolled across the shattered valley, carried by weak, dying winds. Broken stone clattered softly as debris finally lost momentum and settled. The sky of the secret realm trembled faintly one last time—then went still.
Silence followed.
A suffocating silence.
No one spoke.
No one moved.
Every cultivator—sect elder, disciple, royal guard—stood frozen, eyes fixed on the center of devastation.
The place where everything had collided.
Golden particles faded first, dissolving into the air like dying embers. The oppressive pressure that had crushed lungs and bones moments earlier slowly loosened its grip.
And then—
The battlefield became visible.
What once had been a grand structure was gone.
