Flying through the skies above Ancient Sword City, Wang Chen wore a contemplative expression. The wind rushed past his ears, but his thoughts were far louder than the city below.
The conversation he had with Yang Li replayed in his mind again and again, every word examined, every pause dissected. No matter how many times he turned it over, he couldn't find anything overtly wrong.
And yet…
Something felt off.
Not wrong in a way he could point to—but wrong in the way a missing piece makes an entire puzzle feel incomplete.
It was as if he had overlooked something fundamental.
Suddenly, like a spark flaring in the dark, a thought surfaced.
Wasn't there someone in history who openly fought against the Upper Realm…?
His brows knit together.
Strange.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't recall the name. The memory felt deliberately blurred, as if something—or someone—had reached into the river of history and erased the details.
