The spear didn’t pull back to strike.
Yama King Qin Guang released his two-handed grip on the shaft, his black glass palms snapping together in a single, bone-shaking mudra.
The bone-steel spear shaft dissolved into an arc of liquid black liquid silver.
From that liquid silver emerged a needle no thicker than a horsehair, three inches long, forged from ultra-tightly packed rotting sovereign intent: the Nine Nether Soul-Piercing Curse.
It didn’t travel through space. It tightly packed the space between Qin Guang’s fingertips and Lin Ke’s chest, arriving at the chest bone without a measurable transit interval.
Lin Ke saw it.
His Mid Golden Core flared at maximum clock speed. But no living muscle could generate a counter-vector against a zero-latency spatial shifted weight.
The needle struck his chest dead center.
