"The hunt is over," the Sovereign's voice echoed in Han Ye's mind. "The harvest begins."
The shadows pulled at Han Ye, coiling around his limbs, tugging him deeper into the cold, damp earth. He thrashed, but his body felt like a puppet whose strings had been cut. The last image of Mo Ran dissolving into white petals burned behind his eyes. *No. Not like this. Not after everything.* He felt the agonizing emptiness where her spirit had just been, a phantom limb of his own soul. Rage, cold and raw, ignited his pure spirit root.
He roared, a sound torn from the deepest part of his being, and a blinding wave of white light erupted from his chest. The shadows recoiled, hissing as they burned away. Han Ye surged upward, bursting from the ground with a desperate gasp, collapsing onto the riverba
