Time seemed to slow down.
For Lin Mo, courtesy of the [Adrenaline-Surge Espresso Shot] coursing through his veins, the world had practically ground to a halt when his vision turned white and he got transported inside the Anchor.
Right as his vision cleared, the chaotic, booming battlefield sounded like a muffled, slow-motion recording.
He saw the droplets of blood suspended in mid-air, coughed up by Patriarch Liu. He saw the desperate expressions of the Spirit Severing Ancestors as they poured their qi into defensive barriers that were cracking like sugar glass under the Avatar's oppressive aura.
He saw the child-like Highland Sovereign Avatar with its small hand raised, reality actively warping and distorting around its fingertips in a kaleidoscope of unnatural colors.
And he saw the incoming wave of chaotic energy, a stray backhand sweep of the Avatar's conceptual manipulation, rippling directly toward the spot where he had just materialized.
