"What happened to this palace…?!"
The words almost tore out of Wang Chen's throat.
For a split second, he nearly shattered the calm, detached image he had so carefully maintained. It took visible effort for him to swallow the shout and compress it into a strained whisper.
Before them stretched a scene that felt apocalyptic.
As far as the eye could see, the land was barren and blackened. The earth had cracked open into jagged veins of cooled magma, like wounds that had once bled fire but were now sealed into ugly scars. Thick smoke still curled lazily upward in places, spiraling toward the sky like grieving dragons refusing to fade.
The air was dry.
Dead.
There was no roaring inferno. No ocean of fire. No raging sea of molten destruction.
This was impossible.
