98. Whispers of the Forgotten Realm

The battlefield lay in ruins. Broken weapons, shattered stones, and traces of lingering energy marked the intensity of the battle. The night wind howled through the desolate wasteland, carrying the scent of blood and dust.

Ling Tian stood still, his azure-gold aura flickering faintly before receding into his body. His robes were torn, but his posture remained regal—untouched by exhaustion.

Nightshade Xian was gone. His self-destruction had erased his presence, yet Ling Tian knew better. A foe like him never truly vanished.

A soft voice interrupted his thoughts.

"You… you actually did it."

Xu Qing'er stepped forward, her silver eyes gleaming with complex emotions. Her delicate features were pale, yet her gaze never wavered.

Ling Tian turned to her. "Did you doubt me?"

She shook her head. "Not doubt. Just…" She hesitated, then sighed. "He was strong. And his death…" Her gaze shifted toward the darkened sky. "It feels… incomplete."

Ling Tian narrowed his eyes. He had sensed it too. Nightshade Xian had perished, but the sensation left behind was unnatural—like a thread of fate left unresolved.

Then, a shift in space.

A ripple in the air.

Ling Tian's hand instinctively reached for his sword, but the energy that followed was not hostile. It was something else. Something ancient.

The Forgotten Realm…

A memory surged in his mind. The whispers of an old legend, the remnants of a past long buried.

Xu Qing'er gasped as she felt it too. "This… this presence…"

Before either of them could react, the sky above cracked. A deep chasm of swirling void energy emerged, pulling at the fabric of reality itself.

A gateway.

A passage.

Ling Tian's expression darkened. It's time.

The Forgotten Realm called.

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