Chapter 85 - The Pulse’s Unraveling

The astral plain stretched under a canopy of endless stars, its surface a mirror of black glass that hummed with a rhythm older than time. No wind stirred, no shadows fell—only a faint pulse, a vibration that thrummed through the bones and frayed the edges of thought. The air shimmered, alive with motes of light that danced like dying sparks, each one a whisper of something vast and unmoored. Beyond a ripple in the glass, where the stars seemed to bend, a rift glowed—a violet seam that throbbed with a force so boundless it could unwind existence itself. The Ethereal Pulse, the forty-eighth force, had awakened, its infinite resonance of boundless power a silent hymn to unravel Lin Feng's spirit to nothing.