Chapter 5992

—pulling breath straight from the marrow of the earth.

The moment the reed curtain fell, a soft hum sealed the lodge. Not oppressive. Not hostile. Merely private.

Lyza did not sit immediately. She extended her hand toward the writing table. A thin lattice of pale-green light rippled outward, sweeping the walls, the floor, even the ceiling.

Only after the final shimmer faded did she lower herself into one of the bamboo chairs.

“This lodge,” she said quietly, “is insulated from external perception. Even a High Immortal Realm cultivator would hear nothing but wind.”

Luther remained standing.

Jared took the opposite chair, posture relaxed, as if they were discussing tea leaves rather than treason.