The world above the Guardian's temple was a charred scar against the bruised dawn. Li Chen, with Yueling clutching his hand, gazed at the ruined Spirit Cloud Mountain. Its once proud peaks were jagged, broken teeth, smoke curling from distant fires like funeral shrouds. Celestial leviathans of the Sky Sword Sect, though damaged, still loomed in the heavens, their engines humming with a predatory satisfaction. His eyes, burning with a steady, profound golden-silver light, reflected the shattered world before him. He was a refugee, a guardian without a home, a protector without a sect. And the world was about to feel the cold, searing rage of his grief.
"We have to move, Chen," Yueling whispered, her voice hoarse from crying, her eyes wide with fear as she stared at the ravaged landscape. T
