A streak of brilliant silver light tore across the pavilion.
Bai Zihan shot forward, his figure blurring like a phantom.
His sword howled through the air, shimmering with a sharp, lethal glow as it closed in on Fang Jinyan—who was still dazed, blood staining his lips.
"Stop—!"
He tried to yell, but his voice caught in his throat.
Too late!
CLANG!
A thunderous crash rang out as Whispering Frost barely intercepted the blow—but Fang Jinyan was flung through the air like a broken kite, his body spinning before crashing into the steps of the Cloud Pavilion with a sickening thud.
Cracks spiderwebbed beneath him, and dust clouded the air.
His robes were torn, his Qi wildly unstable.
He tried to rise, groaning in pain, but collapsed again.
Eyes wide with disbelief, he gasped, "How… how is this possible…?"
Kong Zhanhong stood frozen in place, jaw slack, pupils trembling. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.
