Excitement flared inside him.
‘That would mean… Not only can I move between worlds, but I can also take them with me. They could train in here… In a closed-off realm unbound by the universal laws. A perfect little crucible for their cultivation.’
The possibilities burned bright in his mind.
His eyes narrowed with ambition as he gazed upon the two women now standing beside him.
“Let’s get Rykar and Lysandra. Then, we leave.”
Without another word, Quinlan strode forward, with the pair following in his wake wordlessly.
They moved through the broken battlefield, where the fires of war still smoldered beneath ashen skies.
Near the shattered heart of what once was Naryssia’s throne hall, a figure knelt in silence.
Rykar.
The once-great Crimson Hammer of Vulkaris sat limbless, his body a frail husk of what it had been, clad in tattered robes, head bowed low. Before him lay Lysandra’s still form. The old man’s posture was rigid, his breath shallow, eyes closed.
He was consumed in a deep state of meditation. Or perhaps something darker… A grief so deep it had swallowed his will whole.
Feng remained a respectful distance away, silent. But Serika and Quinlan approached, footsteps soft upon the bloodstained stone.
“Father…” Serika’s voice was gentle, trembling at the edges. “Father, listen to me. Quinlan can help you. He can take you somewhere safe. A place where healers can tend to you and your ruined body… But we need your permission to do so… Please, say something.”
She knelt beside him, placing a careful hand upon his shoulder.
No response.
“Please…” she whispered, voice breaking as her fingers curled against him.
But just as Quinlan had predicted, Rykar was unreachable. His soul had turned inward, consumed by loss. Even to the beloved touch of his remaining daughter, he gave no sign that he heard her. The old man sat motionless, a flickering shadow of the man he had been.
At this sight, Serika’s gaze began to tremble. Her green eyes—usually bright with fire—turned glassy as they drifted toward Lysandra’s body.
Her sister.
Her precious little sister.
Even if they’d spirited away from one another in the final battle… she still loved her. She always would.
The pain in her heart bloomed, becoming sharp and all too much unbearable. A small, choked sound escaped her lips. The weight of the world seemed to press down on her, threatening to shatter her resolve. Yet, amidst the desolation, a spark of hope still flickered alive within her when she felt a firm, steady hand grip her shoulder.
Quinlan.
Just his mere touch was enough to bring change…
His warmth grounded her, a silent promise of strength. On her other side, Feng finally approached, her own expression a mix of extreme concern and fierce loyalty. Her previous jealousy was nowhere to be seen. While Feng was greatly envious of Serika, she still cherished the woman greatly. She didn’t want to see her hurting one bit.
Wordlessly, Feng reached out and took Serika’s free hand in both of hers.
“I’m here for you too…” she whispered, voice soft. “You’re important to me as well, even if I might not show it very well…”
Serika’s lip quivered. She gave a small nod, squeezing Feng’s hands in response gratefully.
Quinlan then stepped forward, toward the still pair of Vaels. His expression shifted to one of deep focus as he extended his will toward Lysandra’s body.
First, the fallen sister.
A gentle pull of soul-force. He expected resistance—perhaps a final echo of will or attachment—but none came.
Nothing.
Lysandra’s body faded instantly, her form reappearing in his Soul Realm, where she now lay upon the soft grass beneath the empty sky.
Next… Rykar.
Quinlan hesitated only a moment before trying the same. He reached for the old man’s spirit, prepared to be rebuffed, knowing Rykar hadn’t given consent.
But—shockingly—it worked.
Rykar’s battered form shimmered, then vanished, appearing beside Lysandra within the Soul Realm.
Quinlan blinked, processing what had just happened.
‘…Why?’
His thoughts raced, quickly arriving at two distinct conclusions.
‘Either his grief locked him so deep that he couldn’t mount a mental resistance… or the strength gap between us has grown too wide. No limbs, ruined cultivation, broken spirit… he may still technically be a Spirit Tempering cultivator, but functionally… he’s a shadow of that now. While I’m almost certainly the strongest entity in all of Zhengwu right now.’
In the end, no matter the cause, the result was the same.
They were ready. It was time to go home.
Turning back to the two women, Quinlan gave Serika a long, steady look, then smiled softly.
Without a word, he opened his arms wide.
Serika hesitated for only a second, then practically launched herself into him, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist, burying her face against his chest. Feng huffed, but then latched onto his side as well, cheeks burning.
Quinlan laughed, pulling both women into an extra-large, possessive embrace. It was an embrace not of lust, but of the strong, warm, and protective feelings he held toward these two precious existences.
Mine. Both of them.
“Hold on, girls.” His voice rumbled. “We’re leaving this world behind.”
And with that, in a shimmer of light, the duo vanished, joining Rykar and Lysandra within the Soul Realm, leaving only Quinlan himself behind.
It was time to go home.
He turned.
Rongtai stood a few paces away, hands folded, watching him with quiet understanding.
Quinlan approached, placing a firm hand on the monk’s shoulder. “I’ll return soon. Until then, hold steady.”
Rongtai gave a deep nod. “It will be done, my lord. I shall prepare them… for your return.”
A small smile tugged at Quinlan’s lips. Good man.
[Ding!]
A system message unfolded before his eyes:
[Returning to the Primordial Dimension.]
Quinlan exhaled slowly.
Finally.
It’s time.
The world around him began to shimmer, its edges distorting as the Primordial call surged within his very soul.
The sky fractured. The earth blurred.
And Quinlan Elysiar vanished into light.
Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!
Use arrow keys (or A / D) to PREV/NEXT chapter