The world in Li Mo's eyes had fundamentally changed.

It was no longer just a world of spiritual energy, Dao laws, and physical forms. Now, it was a tapestry woven with invisible threads of emotion, destiny, and connection. He saw the faint, shimmering loyalty of the Qingyuan Sect disciples to their home. He saw the fractured, terrified auras of the captured invaders.

And he saw the single, most damning thread of all.

It was a slender, almost imperceptible line of parasitic grey, tinged with a sickly purple. It extended from the depths of Shangguan Wencang's being, a man who stood cloaked in the righteous light of a Sect Master, and latched directly onto the brilliant, sun-like imperial destiny that blazed around Ying Bing.