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... atform gleamed like a verdant crown, a colossal crater now yawned—a smoldering wound in the earth, birthed by an inferno's unrelenting wrath.

At its heart stood Qin Ting, an unshaken sentinel of ice amid a world devoured by flame. His robes fluttered faintly, kissed by tendrils of fire that dared not singe him, as if the roaring blaze were no more than the flicker of a candle brushing against silken threads. His face, a sculpted mask of serene contempt, gazed upon the chaos with the indi ...

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