From the moment she was five years old, Zora had already been branded a waste body—a useless existence that could never cultivate mana. For more than ten years, that judgment had followed her like a shadow. And now, she was standing before them, calmly telling them that she could cultivate.
What was even more unbelievable was this—there had never been a training manual in her hands. No master had guided her. No resources had been given to her. Yet she stood here today, steady and unshaken, having just blocked General Helius's attack with her own strength.
Luna and Jasmine exchanged glances in shock, their expressions stiff and disbelieving.
For so many years, they had mocked her, bullied her, toyed with her as if she were nothing but a useless toy. But now, it felt as if the roles had been quietly reversed—like it was they who had been dancing in the palm of her hand all along.
