The sun was dipping below the horizon, casting long, blood-red shadows across the charred remnants of the Beggars' Sect as Feng Liang reached the gates.
Twilight thickened in the sky, and the first stars began to flicker to life, their faint light barely illuminating the paths that snaked through the city's ruins.
Feng Liang stepped through the gates, his form blending with the fading light as he pressed his speed to the maximum, blurring into the evening mist.
With a single bound, he reached the main hall, only to find it reduced to rubble and ash, the proud structure now a mere skeleton of burned wood and twisted stone.
Embers glowed faintly among the ruins, casting a soft red glow over the scene.
The acrid scent of smoke still clung to the air, an oppressive reminder of the assault that had nearly leveled the sect.
