The sea battle had left Thunderhead Isle shaken but not broken.
Smoke from the wrecked merchant vessel still drifted lazily over the harbor as cultivators worked to haul away the remains and tend to the wounded.
The ocean, once a storm-tossed battlefield, now lapped at the shore with eerie calm, as if the island itself were holding its breath.
Tian Shen stood near the edge of the harbor, staring at the place where the white-haired figure had vanished beneath the waves.
"The others will come for you now…"
That voice lingered in his mind like a curse—its ominous weight pressing on his chest.
He didn't know how many others "they" were or what faction they belonged to, but the implication was clear: his journey had stirred things that would not stay buried.
Feng Yin approached silently, her long hair tied back in a high tail, her robes slightly tattered but her presence as poised as ever.
"He wasn't lying, was he?"
She asked quietly.
