The ley lines did not just open.
They surrendered.
Five ancient rivers of spiritual energy, older than the kingdom, older than every Dragon Lord in the bloodline, turned toward Xin like flowers toward sunlight and poured themselves into him simultaneously.
It was nothing like the pill. Nothing like the merge.
Those had been violent. This was the opposite — overwhelming in its completeness, like being submerged in something vast and warm and utterly without malice. The white light from his mark spread down his arms, into the floor, racing outward along all five ley lines simultaneously.
The Wolf Clan's ritual energy began dissolving.
Not fighting it. Dissolving it. Like frost meeting morning sun.
Outside the shrine, all six Wolf Clan cultivators cried out simultaneously as their care
