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It sucked them dry.

Veins of once-living Qi pulsed beneath the surface—black, pulsing, erratic like maggots writhing in an open wound. Crimson mist curled over shattered bones and calcified roots. Cracked statues of ancient cultivators jutted from the earth, their expressions twisted in final prayers never answered. The wind moaned with half-formed syllables, as if language itself had been eviscerated here.

And Rin Xie walked through it.

Silent. Untouched. Sovereign ...

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