Li Lian hesitated. "I… can't imagine a world beyond our thirteen provinces."
Li Xianyu's lips curved faintly. "Then your world is very small."
Li Qin's posture stiffened.
"Let me show you just how small."
Li Xianyu tapped the floor of the carriage lightly with her walking staff.
The world rippled.
Like a drop of water disturbing a still lake, reality warped. In an instant, the carriage remained—but Li Lian felt as though she were standing far above the clouds, gazing down upon the Thirteen Provinces from an impossible height.
"This country," Li Xianyu continued, her eyes still closed, "is nothing more than a remote fragment—broken off from a far greater whole. The sects you know, the battles you fight, even the Chaos Sect you now fear… they are insignificant on the true stage."
Li Lian's eyes widened.
None of the Matriarch's illusions had ever felt like this. There was no sense of escape—no sense that it was fake.
