Ping Heng waved his hand, golden light shimmering as the shattered battlefield began repairing itself. Broken islands reassembled, torn space stitched back together, and the chaotic energies dispersed like mist under sunlight.
A simple wooden table and chairs materialized in the center of the restored realm.
"Sit," Ping Heng said, his voice carrying the weight of divine authority.
Yun Lintian slumped into a chair, his body still trembling from channeling five divine authorities at once. Linlin leapt onto the table in her small white cat form, pacing anxiously, while Qingqing fluttered around Yun Lintian, her tiny hands brushing his wounds with gentle wind energy.
Hei Xuan collapsed into a chair with a groan. "Alas, it's really difficult without power."
Ping Heng poured tea—the liquid perfectly balanced between hot and cold—before fixing Qing Yun with a piercing gaze.
"You knew."
It wasn't a question.
