The acrid scent of ozone, metallic and cloying, clung to Ling Wei's robes, growing thicker with every weary step. The air itself pressed down, heavy with a silent malevolence that promised more than just desolation. Behind her, the four disciples, chosen for their keen senses and unwavering loyalty, moved like ghosts, their faces etched with a pallor that wasn't solely from exhaustion. Elder Jin’s command had been clear: "Trace the corruption. Find the source." And the source, all signs pointed, lay in the fallen city of Silverstream.
"The spiritual ley lines here are... dead," Disciple Li whispered, his voice hoarse, pointing to a shriveled vine that still clung to a gnarled tree trunk. It resembled brittle ash, yet somehow remained upright. "Not just damaged. Drained."
"The reports wer
