Far away, in the skies of Eldori Continent, the last echo of that garden conversation still hung like incense smoke — faint, directionless, already dissolving.
Then it was gone.
A sharp light ignited above Daldorgya Kelumdum.
Not sunrise. Not a spell.
Something else — the kind of luminescence that had no name in the lower cultivation manuals because no manual had ever needed to describe what happens when a body moving faster than light tears through the membrane of ordinary sky.
Purple first. Then crimson bleeding into it, gold surging through the center — three colors that had no business existing together, braided into a lance of energy that screamed horizontally across the heavens and ignored every inner circle, every formation boundary, every cultivated barrier the continent had stacked in layers like defensive onions.
They simply ceased to matter.
The light punched through them without acknowledgment, the way a river doesn't acknowledge a line drawn in sand.
