Above the ground, the battlefield that had been locked in a suffocating, tense standoff suddenly shuddered as the sky itself seemed to breathe a sigh of violent release.
The Great Array, which had stretched across the entire sect like an impenetrable celestial dome of crimson and azure light, let out a final, hollow vibration before its runic circuits fractured into millions of flickering particles.
Standing along the carved battlements, watchtowers, and broad courtyards, thousands of upturned faces reflected the dying embers of the defensive barrier.
The native sect elders, disciples of the fallen orthodox lineages, and the battle-hardened masters of the Four Sacred Grounds tightened their grips on their talismans and spirit weapons, their eyes wide as the cold, unfiltered northern wind rushed in to bite their skin.
