Fine, strange ripples lightly swept across the entire Void Domain above the Spirit Pool.
Quite a few cultivators in the convoy noticed them, yet no one paid them much mind.
The void of the Returning Ruins had always been rife with chaos. Such faint, fleeting fluctuations with neither source nor trace were the most common sight on the road.
Sometimes they were lingering echoes from ancient battles; sometimes they were slight tremors in the void barriers. It had been so for thousands upon thousands of years, and everyone had long grown accustomed to it.
No one focused their senses in vigilance, much less tightened their grip on their weapons. The cultivators remained seated in relaxed meditation, steadily absorbing the lingering spiritual energy of the Spirit Pool to recuperate.
They were already close to the Central Army Camp. That was where their confidence and sense of security came from.
They had remained tense throughout the journey. Now that they had reached this place, it was only natural for them to relax somewhat.
One breath, two breaths, three breaths.
Just as everyone assumed it was merely an ordinary void disturbance, that strange fluctuation swept past once more.
In the Returning Ruins, repeatedly appearing faint fluctuations were even more commonplace. At most, they counted as a minor disturbance in the Void Domain, not any sort of danger.
Void mist hung thick and heavy, boundless as it silently shrouded all directions.
After roughly half the time it took to burn half an incense stick, two faint streaks of escape light returned from deep within the mist.
Two cultivators at the great perfection of the Other Shore Realm landed steadily, their auras even and their expressions calm. They quickly approached the chariot and bowed as they delivered their report.
"My lord, we found half a