The darkness that dropped upon the World Core was total.
It wasn’t the darkness of night, nor the shadow cast by a storm cloud. It was the total, spatiotemporal occlusion of reality as Demon Monarch Mo Sha’s thousand-foot jaws snapped shut.
CHOMP.
The sound of those huge black glass fangs slamming together was like two earth-shaking continents colliding at faster-than-sound speed.
A empty pocket wave exploded across the cave floor. It scattered loose gravel, land-mapper stakes, and discarded lunch wrappers across the glass-fused dark rock.
At the center of the impact crater, where Lu Zhen had been standing with his ball-peen hammer just a heartbeat before, there was nothing left.
Only empty air.
The figure in the bright orange safety vest had vanished down the gullet of the void.
