By the fifth day, the steady rhythm of flight and cultivation was broken.
The beast rumbled low in its throat, wings tilting as if uneasy. Tian Lei opened his eyes, qi threads fading from his fingertips, and glanced at Haiyun. The elder's hand was already resting lightly on his staff, his gaze narrowed at the horizon.
Through the layered mist, faint pinpricks of light shimmered—at first like stars, but far too low, far too close. They flickered erratically, moving against the natural flow of clouds.
"Lantern shades," Haiyun murmured, voice edged with caution. "Old spirits bound to these skies. They drift harmless until disturbed—but if they think us intruders…" His staff tapped once against the beast's scales. "They swarm like moths to a flame."
