On the other side of Sunset Forest.
There was no fire in the cave.
Tang San sat in the shadows, his face pale, both hands clenched tightly around his knees.
His fingernails had nearly dug into his palms.
Yet he seemed unable to feel the pain.
The scene he had just witnessed replayed over and over in his mind.
Di Yao stood atop Broken Cliff.
Three Soul Rings rose around him.
The first ring was deep yellow tinged with purple.
The second ring was purple.
The third ring was dark purple, nearly black.
The third ring.
Close to ten thousand years.
It was not a rumor.
Nor was it someone else's exaggeration.
He had seen it with his own eyes.
Tang San had always believed he could endure.
Could wait.
Could slowly catch up.
Even after Di Yao had ground him into the mud at Notting Academy, even after he had been forced to flee, even after his teacher's dignity had been torn apart, he had still told himself—
As long as he had time.
He would surely catch up.
But what he had just seen shattered that small consolation to pieces.
Di Yao had not waited for him.
Di Yao was not even following the path of an ordinary Soul Master.
With every step, he widened the gap between them.
Yu Xiaogang stood at the cave entrance, his expression equally grim.
His lips moved several times, yet he did not immediately speak.
He was a theoretical Grandmaster.
He was best at using theory to explain martial souls, Soul Rings, and paths of growth.
But Di Yao's third Soul Ring left him unable to find a suitable explanation for the moment.
A third Soul Ring close to ten thousand years.
The rudiments of a domain.
Martial soul suppression.
A body