The boarding ramp of the flagship hissed open, and the four of them descended smoothly toward the barren, rock-strewn terrain of the forward outpost. Behind them marched a dense formation of hundreds of elite sect cultivators, their armor clinking in perfect synchronization. Not a single person in this vanguard fell below the Golden Core Realm—a stark, undeniable manifestation of just how seriously the upper echelon was treating the rising border crisis.
The air was heavy, carrying a distinct, freezing chill that smelled faintly of ozone and old blood. The outpost itself was a sprawling complex of reinforced stone fortresses and runic towers intact, yet eerily silent.
The Vice Sect Leader stopped near the center of the primary courtyard, his sharp eyes sweeping over the undisturbed structures. "General, this is the exact location you found vacated?"
