Scarlet mist crept across the northern parapets, hissing against the cold stone like spilled acid.
The sound did not travel on the wind. It was a rhythmic, oily vibration that seeped directly through the stone foundation, burrowing into the marrow of every cultivator within two miles.
Down in the outer courtyard barracks, a young sword-disciple dropped his cleaning rag.
His eyes rolled back into his head, showing only pale whites. His jaw slacked, and a faint scarlet glow flickered beneath his temples.
Beside him, two archers stiffened, dropping their bows to the flagstones.
“Spiritual resonance,” Elder Sterling shouted from the lower courtyard, his sword drawn. “The imperial wardens are using the Blood-Sea Awakening Mantra to drag our outer disciples into sympathetic soul-trances.”
The crimson vibration hummed through the air, growing louder with every breath.
A spiritual vortex began to swirl above the northern roofs, spinning like a dark red funnel. If that vortex expanded another hundred yards, it would touch the herb shed where Master Ash lay resting.
