The air inside the meditation hall was still the same as before—quiet, unmoving, almost timeless. The faint scent of sandalwood incense drifted lazily through the air, curling in translucent ribbons that shimmered under the morning light.
Outside, faint voices echoed—Lin Huang and Li Mei talking, their words soft and distant, like memories carried on the wind.
Though Wang Chen had spent what felt like decades within the Tower of Infinite Enlightenment, in the real world, time had remained utterly still.
Opening his eyes, Wang Chen exhaled softly. His face carried a weary calm, the kind of expression one only wore after countless lifetimes. His eyes, however, reflected something deeper—a subtle exhaustion, as though even victory had begun to taste like dust.
"...Back already, huh?" he muttered to himself. His voice was hoarse, his tone indifferent.
Then, with a low sigh that came from somewhere between relief and defeat, he let his head tilt slightly. "So that's it…"
