Merin steps out of his tent, rises into the air, and heads toward the Raven Tribe.
The plateau above the cliff is now silent.
The Raven Tribe's settlement stands empty.
Only the three totems remain.
After the defeat they suffered and the loss of their people's faith, the three tribes exist in name alone.
Without nourishment from belief, the totems have fallen into unprecedented weakness.
As Merin descends and lands before them, the three totems react.
Their spirits manifest faintly above their forms.
They release what little pressure they can, attempting to intimidate him.
But Merin remains unmoved.
Even at their peak, he did not fear them.
Now, in their weakened state, their intimidation has no effect.
Merin lifts his hand.
His Qi flows outward.
It spreads through the air and condenses into runes.
One by one, the runes appear, glowing faintly.
They connect with each other.
Forming three long runic chains.
With a simple command from Merin, the chains shoot forward.
They wrap tightly around the three totems.
The totems struggle immediately.
Their weakened spirits thrash violently.
But they cannot break free.
The chains are not ordinary.
They carry the function of sealing spirit.
The more the totems resist, the tighter the chains bind.
Soon their movements slow.
Their auras weaken further.
Until they are completely sealed.
Merin extends his energy.
He lifts the three bound totems into the air.
Then he rises again.
Carrying them with him.
The wind moves around him as he returns toward the camp.
Moments later, he descends near the outer perimeter.
The soldiers nearby immediately notice him.
Their expressions shift to respect.
Merin's gaze briefly turns in another direction.
Toward Xingli.
For a moment, he observes her more carefully.
He senses something within her.
A physique connected to stars.
If it were earlier, before he reached the Fourth Stage, such a discovery might have drawn his attention.
But now things are different.
He has already formed the direction of his law.
The Law of Stars could be incorporated into his path.
But it is not essential.
His gaze moves away.
Merin walks calmly toward the camp.
As he passes the nearby warriors, he gives a simple order.
"Prepare vehicles."
"To transport the three totems."
The soldiers respond immediately.
"Yes, my lord."
Merin continues walking.
He enters his carriage without another word.
Inside, he closes his eyes once more.
And resumes his meditation.
A few hours later, the camp is fully packed.
The convoy begins its return journey toward the city.
With the three totems transported along, the entire formation moves slowly and steadily across the frozen terrain.
The presence of the totems adds weight and caution to every movement.
Yet news of their victory spreads far faster than the convoy itself.
Like wildfire, word travels across the Northern Mountains.
Small tribes send envoys.
Large tribes dispatch representatives.
Even families from Wein Province begin moving toward the city.
The Grey Wolf Army also sends people to observe the situation.
The influence of this single campaign begins to expand rapidly.
Two days pass.
The convoy continues its steady advance.
Inside his carriage, Merin remains in meditation.
But suddenly, his senses catch something.
A disturbance.
A battle is taking place in the distance.
He focuses slightly.
Two of the auras feel familiar.
He has sensed them before.
Merin opens his eyes.
Without hesitation, he steps out of the carriage.
He looks toward the driver.
"Continue toward the city."
The driver bows.
"Yes, my lord."
Merin rises into the air.
His figure shoots toward the distant battlefield.
From afar, the scene becomes clearer.
Five figures surround a single opponent.
All five are Fourth Stage, spiritual refiners.
Their energy pulses strongly as they maintain a formation.
Merin narrows his eyes.
Then he sees the one they are besieging.
His eyes widen slightly.
The figure resembles an angel.
Wings extend from its back.
Its entire body shines with radiant light.
Merin watches carefully.
Among the five attackers, he recognises two.
They are the same individuals who attempted to assassinate him after his battle with the six tribal leaders.
His thoughts pause.
Should he intervene?
He observes a little longer.
"Let me watch first."
The five spiritual refiners continue their assault.
Their attacks are coordinated.
Star energy spreads outward, forming a sealing structure around the angelic figure.
Merin quickly notices something.
They are not trying to kill.
They are trying to capture.
He thinks for a moment.
They must have some connection to this angel.
Perhaps a method to transform into such a being.
He observes their techniques closely.
The wings formed by the five attackers are not real.
They are constructed from star energy.
Artificial.
Incomplete.
In contrast, the angel they face is different.
Its body is composed of Light and Fire energy.
Pure.
Natural.
The angel retaliates.
It casts spells continuously.
Sometimes fire and light are used separately.
At other times, the two elements merge into a single attack.
The battlefield glows with alternating bursts of radiance and flame.
The five attackers respond in unison.
They counter with Star Energy techniques.
Alongside them, sonic-type spells ripple through the air.
Waves of sound distort the battlefield, disrupting the angel's casting rhythm.
Merin continues watching silently.
Analysing.
Waiting.
Merin remains suspended in the air, his presence hidden as he observes.
Below him, the battle unfolds with precise rhythm.
The five spiritual refiners do not act as a single unit.
They act as a team.
Each maintains independence.
Each controls a different angle.
Each fills the gap left by another.
The formation shifts constantly.
One attacks.
Two support.
Two restrain.
Then they rotate.
The pattern never breaks.
The angel moves with brilliance.
Light flares.
Fire erupts.
Its wings spread wide, scattering radiant particles into the air.
A beam of condensed light shoots forward.
One of the attackers raises a barrier of star energy.
The beam collides.
The barrier cracks, but does not shatter.
Before the angel can follow up, another attacker appears at its flank.
A sonic wave ripples outward.
The air distorts.
The angel's casting falters for a fraction of a second.
That moment is enough.
A third attacker steps in.
Chains of star energy wrap around one wing.
The angel tears them apart instantly.
Flames burst outward in retaliation.
But the attackers do not panic.
They do not rush.
They withdraw and reposition.
Another takes their place.
The angel attempts to break through the encirclement.
It dives forward.
Fire and light merge into a blazing arc that cuts across the battlefield.
The attack is powerful.
One of the spiritual refiners is forced back.
His defence fractures.
For a brief moment, an opening appears.
But before the angel can exploit it, the others move.
Two intercepts.
One reinforces the damaged barrier.
Another releases a sonic pulse that disrupts the angel's movement again.
The final attacker tightens the star field around the battlefield.
The opening closes instantly.
The angel cannot land a decisive blow.
Every time it pushes forward, the others respond.
Every time it focuses on one target, another intervenes.
The battle becomes a slow suppression.
Not a clash of overwhelming power.
But a steady tightening of control.
The star energy grows denser.
The sealing formation becomes more complete.
Threads of starlight weave together in the air.
They form a faint cage.
Invisible at first.
Then gradually more defined.
The angel's movements become slightly restricted.
Its wings beat harder.
Its spells grow more intense.
But the rhythm of the five does not break.
They continue rotating.
Supporting.
Covering.
Suppressing.
The angel cannot seriously injure any one of them.
Every strike it lands is intercepted.
Every advantage it gains disappears within moments.
Time passes.
The suppression deepens.
The cage of star energy closes further.
The sonic waves grow sharper.
The angel's casting speed slows.
Its aura fluctuates slightly.
Merin watches all of this without moving.
His eyes track every detail.
The coordination.
The energy flow.
The intent behind each movement.
Then something else catches his attention.
A subtle fluctuation.
Not from the angel.
Not from the five attackers.
From a direction far beyond the battlefield.
Merin's gaze shifts instantly.
His expression changes.
Without hesitation, he turns.
His figure vanishes from his position.
He flies back toward the convoy at high speed.
Ahead of the convoy, an old man stands in the path, blocking the way.
The entire formation slows to a halt.
From a carriage in the middle, Xingli and the others step down.
At the front, Ziqi stands firm.
His expression turns solemn as he faces the old man.
"Senior," he says respectfully, "what do you want?"
Besides Xingli, Elder Mu's face changes instantly.
Her voice lowers, filled with unease.
"This is bad… very bad… why is he here?"
Xingli turns to her.
"Elder Mu, do you recognise him?"
Elder Mu nods slowly, her expression grave.
"He is from the Star Singer Tower."
"And he is a Soul Awakening cultivator."
Xingli's eyes widen.
Her heart skips for a moment.
Before she can steady herself, the old man lifts his hand.
He points directly at her.
"I want her."