His eyes lost their shine, the violet fading.
He felt his vital force escaping. Each beat of his heart became an ordeal, an additional stab in an already mortal wound. His body was emptying of its Qi, of its Khao, of everything that made him a cultivator, and there remained only a dying young man, pierced by a sword of light, with trembling hands and blurred vision.
As he slumped, ready to breathe his last in this glass prison, the world stopped.
Time literally froze.
The particles of dust floating in the air remained suspended, motionless like insects trapped in amber.
