The battlefield did not erupt.
It stalled.
Ash drifted between shattered terraces, turning lazily before settling onto blood-dark stone. Flames still burned along collapsed halls, but they bent inward now, pulled tight by an unseen pressure. Heat shimmered low, warping the edges of broken pillars and fallen bodies.
Someone exhaled.
Too loud.
Shen Hang stood near the front, spear clenched so tightly the shaft let out a faint metallic ring.
His throat bobbed.
"…Elder Lin Shu," he said hoarsely.
Relief hit him first.
Then confusion.
His gaze lifted higher—kept lifting—until his neck ached.
"…She came out of seclusion," Shen Hang muttered, voice unsteady.
His gaze slid upward, following the pressure crushing his lungs.
"…And she brought Lorgann with her? Didn't Lorgann go with Master?"
Beside him, Lee Bie exhaled shakily, knees nearly giving way.
"…Then we're saved," he whispered.
