By the time Ningyan arrived at the Hidden Phoenix Clan, dawn had barely broken.
The sacred land stretched beneath endless clouds, mountains draped in silver mist, waterfalls pouring like ribbons of glass, ancient trees blooming with spirit flowers untouched by mortal seasons. Pure spiritual energy flowed through the land like breath itself, making the entire realm feel alive.
It was beautiful. Peaceful. A place untouched by war.
And yet Ningyan's chest felt heavy.
In his beast form, he cut across the skies as a vast white phoenix cloaked in dim violet radiance, though the blackish-red demonic glow beneath it bled through like corruption staining moonlight.
He descended straight toward the palace.
The moment his talons touched the sacred grounds, his form shifted.
White robes unfurled around him, his long silver-white hair whipping in the mountain wind.
He did not take the stairs.
He stormed forward.
