"…you will come."
"Arza?"
"Are these the people you're talking about?"
A faint smile curved his lips. He stretched out his palm.
Clang—clang—clang.
Dozens of gold jade tokens appeared in midair, suspended by invisible force. Each bore the cold insignia of the Pavilion of Heavenly Secrets. Bloodstains mottled their surfaces, some still fresh, some long dried, carrying faint remnants of Supreme auras that had not yet fully dissipated.
The wind stilled.
"…?"
Dame stood unmoving.
Though black satin bound his eyes, he was not blind.
He had never been blind.
Even without opening his eyes, his divine perception stretched across the Holy Peak, mapping every fluctuation of spiritual energy, every trembling soul, every breath of fear and awe.
The black satin existed for only one reason.
To warn himself.
