"Are you even listening, Satan?"
Han Ye blinked, the word snapping him out of his own head. The morning sun was already high, cutting sharp angles across the dusty road. He hadn't heard what Elder Rong said. He had been too busy replaying Grand Elder Jiang's chilling words in his mind, The Key has been found. Mo Ran. Always Mo Ran.
Elder Rong, a woman with a severe topknot and eyes like chipped jade, rode beside him. Her posture was ramrod straight on her warhorse, her Alliance robes pristine even after hours of travel. Behind them, a dozen elite disciples from various sects followed, their faces a mix of fear and thinly veiled disdain. Han Ye rode a simple mare, his own tattered cloak flapping in the wind. He felt every ache in his body, every ghost of pain from the Void Sovereign's cha
