Everyone on the battlefield still stood frozen, unsure of what to do next. Above them, Zola had already vanished into the sky, ascending higher and higher until he was nothing but a fading speck.

Then — someone moved. It was Chianxu.

With a broken cry, she rushed forward and collapsed beside her father's lifeless body. Her hands trembled as she clutched him, tears streaming down her cheeks without restraint. Both her father, Wang Long… and her grandfather, Hueng Long… were gone.

"No… Father… please, wake up…"

Her voice cracked as she shook him, again and again, as if sheer desperation could bring him back.

Deep down, she knew. She knew he would never open his eyes again. But her heart… refused to accept it.

Xiao Long walked up to her and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. His lips parted slightly, as if to speak — yet no words came. Nothing he could say felt enough.

One by one, members of the Long family approached. Some knelt beside Hueng Long's body, their expressions heavy with grief. Others gathered around Wang Long, heads lowered in silent mourning.

Logan turned toward them, his chest tightening. A deep sense of helplessness washed over him.

'If only… I had awakened that power sooner…'

Logan Smith — once Aiden Ferith in his past life had always fought for others. Strength, to him, was never about glory or pride. It was a means… a way to protect those who needed it. He never wanted to stand by, powerless, while others suffered.

And yet… here he was. Too late. Unable to save them.

He knew, rationally, that their deaths were not his responsibility. He wasn't the strongest present, nor the eldest, nor the one burdened with protecting everyone. But still… he felt it.

That weight. That obligation.

Hueng Long had helped him — more than once. He was the one who gave him the Golden Dragon's blood essence. Perhaps the old man had his own motives… but that didn't erase what he had done.

How could Logan not feel guilty? He stepped forward slowly, then bowed his head. "I'm sorry… I failed to protect them."

His voice was low, sincere — laden with sorrow.

From among the Long family, Wanabe Long stepped forward. He stood tall despite the grief etched into his face. "Do not blame yourself, Young Master," he said, his voice steady but heavy with buried pain. "We are alive because of you." He paused briefly, his gaze shifting toward the fallen patriarch.

"It is simply… misfortune… that our Patriarch could not live to witness the heights you will one day reach."

Wanabe Long — one of the five elders of the Long family, and also the eldest son of Hueng Long lowered his eyes, grief flickering beneath his composed exterior.

Members of the other spirit families were also mourning their deceased.

Logan helplessly swept his gaze across the battlefield. At last, they had won — but at a heavy cost. So many were dead, and so many were injured. The demon had brought utter devastation upon the spirit families. If not for Zola and the mysterious female voice, they would have all perished. And it wouldn't have ended there — those living beyond the spirit mountain would have faced the same fate.

Wanabe placed a hand on Logan's shoulder. He could sense the turmoil raging within Logan's heart.

"I may not be your equal in strength, Young Master," Wanabe said softly, "but I've seen many things over the years. Don't let the deaths of so many weigh down your heart. You can't save everyone, not all the time. It's not just about strength — it's about fate. Take solace in the lives you did save. Think about what would have happened if all of us had perished."

Logan nodded, but his thoughts told a different story. 'Fate? No… It's about strength. I'm still not strong enough. I need to become stronger — much stronger. So that no matter what happens… I never have to watch the people I care about die before my eyes.' Unnoticed by the others, Logan clenched his fist tightly.

A long time passed before everyone began gathering the bodies of the fallen, preparing to bury them in their respective families' ancestral grounds.

Afterward, they all returned to their homes. There was no joy on anyone's face — only a heavy gloom hung in the air.

Logan made his way back to the Long Family estate. Once all the bodies had been properly buried, Wanabe sat down with Logan to discuss what lay ahead.

"Young Master, what are your plans now?"

Logan had already inherited the Golden Dragon's legacy. Deep down, Wanabe wanted to know when they could ascend to the Upper Realm — but he chose not to ask. It would seem too self-serving, and despite everything, he felt genuine gratitude toward Logan for all the help he had given.

"I need to visit my family first," Logan replied. "I've been away for several days — they must be worried. After that, I'll take care of the dungeons. Then… I'll find a way to help you all. I know what you've been waiting for all these years. You've helped me a lot, so I'll do everything I can to help you ascend to the Upper Realm."

Wanabe's heart surged with joy, though he kept his composure. At the same time, the loss of so many members of the Long Family weighed heavily on him.

"Thank you, Young Master," Wanabe said, bowing his head slightly.

"No need to be so polite. It's only the right thing to do."

At the same time, he thought, 'I also need to visit the Upper Realms… I have to see what they have to do with me.'

"When do you plan to leave?" Wanabe asked.

"The sooner, the better. But before that, may I visit the library once more? I need to borrow a book."

"Young Master, our lives belong to you. Why speak of borrowing?" Wanabe said with a faint smile. "Even if you were to take every book from the library for eternity, none of us would object."

"Then I'll thank you in advance," Logan said as he rose to his feet.

Wanabe stood up as well.

"I'll have someone guide you."

"Sure."

With that, Wanabe walked inside, leaving Logan standing there, waiting.

'Seika Solwyn… I need to know more about him,' Logan thought.