Patriarch Vulture plunged through the cold canyon mist like a falling blood-red star.
Minute Five of Kaelen Vance’s quad-combo was underway.
The old bandit patriarch was enveloped in a fifty-meter blade of roaring scarlet fire: the Crimson-Vulture Blood-Meteor Slash.
His shattered nose poured warm blood across his lips, fueling the sacrificial blood-art. He had ignited his own marrow, burning twenty years of lifespan in a single suicidal dive.
The sheer velocity of his descent created a sonic shockwave that split the pine trees along the canyon rim.
The violent air pressure slammed onto the limestone porch below. Flagstones groaned, and loose gravel rattled like dice in a cup.
Captain Zhao raised his iron shield with trembling arms, shouting for his men to brace.
For fifteen years, Zhao had served on the northern frontier. He had seen rogue cultivators level fortifications with a single strike.
