Fang Lian, one of the clan's two golden cores, stepped forward. Her lips trembled, and her voice faltered as she asked,
"Matriarch Fang… is my master—?"
She couldn't finish. The words died in her throat.
Lin Zhaoyue, however, smiled as though soothed by an unshakable truth.
She reached out, almost tender, and said,
"Oh, my child… worry not. My husband will carve his way out of that Saberfang's stomach."
The elders froze. Her tone brimmed with certainty, yet to their ears it was the certainty of delusion.
Everyone knew of the Matriarch's obsession to Fang Yuan, how she spoke of him as though he were untouchable, immortal.
But now?
Now her words sounded like the mad hope of a grieving widow.
To them, Fang Yuan was already gone.
He had been devoured by a Nascent Soul beast; no cultivator could possibly survive such a fate.
Lin Zhaoyue's smile only deepened, calm and unwavering.
