The air twisted.
Not violently.
Not yet.
Qin Morian stood still, violet robes drifting as if the sky itself breathed for him. His gaze rested on Lin Shu—not dismissive, not curious.
Evaluating.
Then—
Pressure descended.
Invisible at first, but heavy enough that cracked stone groaned beneath Lin Shu's boots. Her breath stalled mid-inhale.
The blue aura around her rippled violently, flaring once in resistance before being pressed flat, like fire forced under glass.
Her pupils contracted.
Spirit Lord.
Not barely.
Not newly stepped into it.
This was refined. Dense. Layered.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
Level… five?
The realization hit harder than any blow.
Around them—
The sect felt it.
Disciples stiffened as if a hand had closed around their chests. Some dropped to one knee. Others forced themselves upright, faces pale, teeth clenched so hard blood leaked from bitten lips.
Elder Wan sucked in a sharp breath.
"…Spirit Lord," he whispered. "…Level Five…"
