55. Echoes of a Vanished Past

The cold wind howled through the ruins of the forsaken battlefield, carrying with it the scent of dried blood and the distant echoes of sorrow. Ling Tian stood motionless, his azure-golden aura fluctuating faintly as his gaze rested upon the shattered remnants of an ancient sect. His eyes, deep like the abyss, carried an unshakable resolve.

This place… it was once a thriving land of cultivation, yet now, it was nothing but ruins.

Xu Qing'er, standing beside him, gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "Does this place… remind you of something?" she asked, her voice soft yet carrying a mysterious depth.

Ling Tian's fingers curled into a fist. His thoughts drifted to the fragments of memories that felt distant yet eerily familiar. Ever since his return from the Forsaken Realm, he had sought answers—answers that seemed to elude him at every turn. The destruction of his clan, the shrouded truths behind his lineage, and the ominous shadow that loomed over his past—everything pointed to a grand scheme far beyond mortal comprehension.

Before he could answer, a sudden pressure descended upon the area. It was suffocating, ancient, and brimming with an unfathomable intent. Ling Tian's eyes snapped upward as the void itself seemed to ripple. A figure clad in tattered robes emerged from the darkness. His face was concealed, but the aura he exuded was terrifying.

"You… you bear the traces of a fate long severed," the figure murmured, his voice echoing as though coming from the depths of time itself.

Ling Tian narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"

The figure took a slow step forward. "A mere shadow… one who witnessed the fall of your clan. One who saw the truth erased from the annals of history."

A chill crept up Ling Tian's spine. "You know what happened to the Ling Clan?"

The figure chuckled—a sound that was both mocking and sorrowful. "Do you truly wish to know, Ling Tian? Can you bear the weight of such knowledge?"

Xu Qing'er's expression changed subtly, her fingers tightening around her sleeves. There was something about this situation that felt strangely connected to her own fragmented memories.

Ling Tian exhaled, his golden-azure aura igniting like divine flames. "Tell me."

The figure raised his hand. A gust of wind carried forth an ancient scroll, its surface engraved with celestial inscriptions. "If you seek the truth, then follow the path laid before you. But beware—once you step forward, there is no turning back."

Ling Tian caught the scroll, feeling an inexplicable weight settle upon him. He had taken countless risks before, but this one… this one felt different.

Xu Qing'er moved closer. "Ling Tian, this might be a trap."

Ling Tian smirked. "If the truth is a trap, then I'll tear it apart with my own hands."

The figure gave a slow nod. "Very well. Then let fate resume its course."

With that, he faded into nothingness, as if he had never existed.

Ling Tian unrolled the scroll. As his eyes scanned the ancient script, his pupils contracted.

The truth… was far more terrifying than he had ever imagined.

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