The mountain plateau quaked as Tian Shen advanced. His spear's silver flames licked the air, twisting qi currents into violent eddies.
Across from him, the foreign leader—armored in fractured iron and bound with pulsating runes—lifted his gauntlet high, calling forth the power of his homeland's forbidden artifacts.
The gauntlet's surface cracked and reformed endlessly, as though struggling to contain a wellspring too vast for mortal hands.
The clash was inevitable.
Behind Tian Shen, the Feilun Sect disciples wavered between awe and fear. None dared move closer; the air itself was too heavy to breathe.
Feng Yin alone stepped forward, her aura shimmering like moonlight on steel, eyes sharp yet unreadable. She said nothing, but Tian Shen felt her gaze pressing against his back, steady, certain.
It was enough.
The foreign leader struck first. His gauntlet released a burst of shadow-forged qi, like the screech of broken glass.
