"What's happening?" the cultivator named Fei stammered, his steps instinctively staggering back as the sheer weight of shock threatened to buckle his knees.
Even greater distress seized him when he registered the unnerving similarity between the smile currently playing on Tie Yin's lips and the haunting expression Xiao Ming had worn moments before.
'An illusion. It must be an illusion!' he desperately sought to assure himself, but the attempt was futile.
ZZ!
His vision blurred as Tie Yin materialized directly in front of him, hands already outstretched.
Before Fei could even initiate a thought, Tie Yin's grip had clamped around his neck. The contact was unsettlingly cold, as if the hand were not flesh and blood, but sculpted from ancient, ice-jade.
A ragged gasp escaped Fei Xiang as his lungs seized. Caught completely off-balance, his windpipe constricted under the severe, unexpected pressure, cutting off his air.
