The spectral rift in the center of the treasury pulsed with a rhythmic, sickly violet light, casting long, distorted shadows against the stacks of ancient gold. The voice that had echoed from the void—cold, clinical, and laced with a familiarity that made Scarlett’s skin crawl—belonged to none other than Master Xuan, the man who had betrayed her in her original life and caused the ritual that sent her soul spiraling into this novel.“You don’t belong in this world, Scarlett,” the voice hissed again, more distinct now. A hand, translucent and withered like ancient parchment, reached through the crack in reality, its fingers twitching as if searching for a familiar thread. “The debt of the temple must be paid in blood. Return to the void, and your soul may yet find peace.”Scarlett stood frozen, her breath coming in shallow gasps. The trauma of her previous life—the betrayal, the cold steel of the ritual dagger, the smell of incense and blood—surged back like a tidal wave. For a second,
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