The world dissolved into streaks of molten gold and the scent of honeyed decay.
Lin Tian's feet touched solid ground, the disorientation lasting less than a heartbeat. His senses, honed by the Earth Spirit Realm and the Chaos-Harmony Vessel, snapped into focus before the portal's light had fully faded.
They stood in a circular chamber. The walls, floor, and domed ceiling were all woven from threads of shimmering, iridescent silk. It pulsed with a soft, internal light, like being inside a gigantic, living cocoon. The air was warm, thick with the cloying sweetness of nectar and something else underneath—the dry, papery smell of chrysalises.
"The Waystation of the Golden Thread," Li Yao announced, her voice a satisfied hum. She gestured around them. "A neutral ground, outside the jurisdiction of any sect. For… discreet discussions."
