Deng Lun's high boots landed on the spiral staircase, leaving hollow echoes in the solitary fortress—a place so silent it could seemingly swallow sound.
This time, before he could even reach the familiar door, the scenery around him began to twist and melt.
A dreamlike, star-filled darkness gradually swallowed him. When he came to his senses, he found himself back in the terraced lecture hall of the academy, a place that seemed eternally frozen in the glow of a setting sun.
On the stone podium, the blurry figure remained as still as a statue, as if he were an inseparable part of the classroom itself.
Deng Lun froze for a moment, then quickly composed himself. He bowed his head deeply and said in a respectful tone, "Your student, Deng Lun, greets you, Teacher."
When the blurry figure offered no response, not even a flicker of movement, Deng Lun had no choice but to brace himself and continue his report.
