Grey ended the voice transmission with Zayne in silence. The faint glow of the jade slip dimmed to nothing, leaving the room swallowed by stillness. The last echoes of their conversation lingered in the air like smoke—fragile, vanishing.
Through that brief exchange, he had gathered more than words. Fragments of truth had slipped through Zayne's tone—bits of the world's current beneath the calm surface. When pieced together, they painted a picture darker than dusk.
The first thing Grey learned was that the battlefield was no place for Qi Accumulation cultivators. Those still stationed there were not warriors but placeholders—mortals pretending to stand before gods. They guarded the bones of conquered land until the true cultivators, those of Foundation Establishment and beyond, arrived to claim it. Their purpose was already fading. Their era was almost gone.
