For a few minutes, I just sat there, motionless. I was far too exhausted to even consider moving a muscle.
My body had been pushed to the absolute limit, battered and broken, while Elena had walked away with nothing but a small bruise that had probably already finished healing.
It was a stark, brutal reminder of the gap between us. I was a flickering candle sitting next to a raging inferno. I had to get stronger, and I had to do it fast. If I didn't find a way to harness whatever latent power lay in my blood, I wouldn't be able to survive for long.
As I sat there, mentally cycling through cultivation tropes and narrative clichés to find a shortcut to power, a carriage appeared from the right.
It was grand—the kind of over-the-top, gilded monstrosity that screamed old money and high nobility. The horses were kept at a leisurely walk, their hooves thudding softly against the garden path.
