The storm had stilled, but not out of mercy.
The broken sea lay like a graveyard—motionless, vast, and devoid of warmth. The water was not water anymore. It had turned to ink, to silence, to a mirror reflecting only ruin.
Lan floated above it, if the word float still applied. His form shimmered, barely recognizable as human. A flickering outline of bones and shadows, his soul unraveled by the weight of the heavenly law still dragging him deeper.
That golden chain, anchored in some unreachable realm above, coiled through the torn sky and pierced straight through him. It pulsed with quiet judgment—final, unrelenting.
His body didn't move. It couldn't.
But the voice came again, calm and cold, like a blade sliding against stone.
"Your will is stronger than law. Wrap your soul in it."
Xie Wuchen stood on the black surface, barefoot, robes fluttering though there was no wind. His eyes were voids—silent, watching, waiting.
Lan didn't answer.
He remembered.
