92. Whispers of the Forgotten Realm

The scent of blood still lingered in the air as Ling Tian stepped over the corpses of the Forsaken Path assassins. His golden sword slowly faded, its radiance retracting into his body like a sleeping dragon. Xu Qing'er landed beside him, her gaze sweeping across the battlefield with a sharp, calculating look.

"It's strange," she murmured, breaking the silence. "For a sect that has supposedly been erased from history, they seem rather… active."

Ling Tian nodded, his expression unreadable. The Forsaken Path had always been spoken of in hushed whispers—a group that once vied for dominance in the Myriad Worlds but had mysteriously vanished overnight. If they were moving again, it meant something far greater was at play.

"Whoever is pulling the strings," he said, "they won't remain in the shadows for long."

Before Qing'er could respond, a sudden tremor rippled through the air. The remnants of the battlefield groaned, and from beneath the shattered ground, ancient symbols began to glow. A surge of energy erupted, forming a spiraling vortex of spatial distortion.

A portal.

Ling Tian's eyes narrowed. "Someone's trying to erase the evidence."

Without hesitation, he flicked his sleeve, sending out a strand of golden qi that sealed the space, halting the collapse of the battlefield. Yet, as soon as he did, a cold, mocking voice echoed from within the vortex.

"You're more troublesome than I expected, Ling Tian."

From within the spiraling darkness, an ethereal figure emerged—a silhouette of a man cloaked in a robe woven with starlight. His features were obscured, his presence vast and immeasurable.

Xu Qing'er tensed. "Who is this?"

Ling Tian remained silent, his gaze fixed on the mysterious figure. Something about this presence felt… familiar. Not in a personal sense, but as if it had always been there, watching, waiting.

The figure chuckled. "There is no need for names. Not yet." His gaze—despite the lack of visible eyes—seemed to pierce through Ling Tian's very soul. "Tell me, Heaven's Forsaken Child, do you truly believe your path is your own?"

A cold light flashed in Ling Tian's eyes. "Heaven's Forsaken Child?"

The figure's laugh deepened, echoing like the chimes of an ancient bell. "You will understand soon enough. But for now…" He raised a hand, and the air around them twisted.

In an instant, Ling Tian felt an immense force press down upon him—an invisible hand reaching into the depths of his being, as if trying to unearth something hidden.

But before the force could take hold, a violent burst of golden flames erupted from within him, shattering the energy's grip. The mysterious figure faltered slightly, then let out a low hum of interest.

"So, even now, you resist. How fascinating."

Ling Tian's voice was cold. "If you wish to test me, do it properly."

The figure tilted his head. "Not today." With a wave of his hand, the portal behind him began to collapse. "You are still incomplete, Ling Tian. But when you are ready… seek the Forgotten Realm. There, the truth awaits."

And with that, his form dissipated like mist in the wind.

The battlefield fell silent once more.

Ling Tian exhaled slowly. The Forgotten Realm…

He had never heard of such a place before. But deep within his soul, something stirred—an inexplicable feeling that this was the next step in his journey.

Xu Qing'er turned to him. "Are we going after him?"

Ling Tian smiled faintly. "Not yet." He looked toward the sky, his golden eyes burning with determination. "But soon."

For now, there were other battles to fight.

And the Forgotten Realm would have to wait.

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