Five after the incident.
At this exact moment, the harsh, relentless afternoon sun beat down upon the sprawling, catastrophic ruins of the Academy City.
What had once been a pristine, white-marble metropolis of towering spires, elegant public plazas, and grand lecture halls was now nothing more than a giant, smoking construction site of shattered columns, cracked stone, and deep, glassed craters.
The air was thick with a heavy, choking haze of pulverized limestone, lingering ash, and the faint, bitter scent of residual energy that still occasionally crackled across the ruined landscapes like static electricity.
Shen Haoran stood perfectly still atop a high, partially collapsed marble balcony overlooking the central square.
His luxurious, dark silk robes fluttered gently in the dry, dust-laden wind, his posture completely poised and elegant, presenting a stark, absolute contrast to the raw, dirty chaos of the laborers working down below.
