He awoke beneath a gray sky.
Rain fell without sound. Mountains stood without aura. Even the air carried no trace of qi.
Luo Yan sat up.
His body remained perfect—unchanged by age or decay—but his cultivation was gone. What remained was something deeper.
Comprehension.
Memories of all realms. All paths. All failures.
"This world has abandoned cultivation," he said softly.
Or perhaps… cultivation had abandoned this world.