The Ye Clan estate shuddered beneath a midnight sky torn by black flame and shadow, the air thick with a resonant scream that drowned out the fading mist of Yin Xu's retreat. The courtyard pulsed with dread, the fire flickering faintly as Ye Hua clutched a patched cloak, her gray eyes wide with terror at the rift where a titanic figure cloaked in black flame emerged, its qi a devouring abyss of infinite power casting a darkness that swallowed the stars.
Ye Qing gripped his spear at the gate, his grizzled face pale with exhaustion, his voice a hoarse growl as he urged Ye Jun and Ye Mei to huddle behind the barricade, their small figures trembling in the oppressive void. Ye Chen knelt by the western wall, his ward-stone clutched tight, his twisted leg braced as the earth quaked beneath a force that defied comprehension. Ye Ling paced the gatehouse, her dagger a restless gleam, her braid snapping with each frantic stride, her breath sharp with defiance and awe.
