The memory of their encounter was still fresh in his mind, and despite his efforts to remain composed, the fear it inspired never left him.
It had happened last night when he was at the height of his power, secure in his position as the leader of the Sycamore clan.
The woman had appeared without warning, her presence as chilling as the winter's wind. She spoke not a word, but her cold, piercing gaze was enough to freeze his blood.
His cultivation, advanced though it was—having reached the Dao Source Realm—meant nothing in the face of her overwhelming might.
He had tried to resist, to summon his strength and defend himself, but it was futile. With a simple flick of her wrist, she had bound his soul, marking him as hers.
In that moment, he knew—she was at least a Dao Lord Realm cultivator, perhaps even beyond.
The ex-clan head had seen many powerful beings in his lifetime, but never one who could impose her will so effortlessly.
