The fifth wave of sky-trial lightning was still crackling in the upper sky when Grand Ancestor Kuang broke the oldest taboo in the training world.
To strike an immortal during their heavenly sky-trial was to court the immediate wrath of cosmic law. But Kuang was five hundred years old, paranoid. Then he utterly convinced that if Lin Ke survived another ten breaths, the Crimson Vulture hegemony over the Central Province was finished forever.
Kuang dropped like a black comet.
In his right palm, he condensed five hundred years of packed blood-sacrifices into a single, jagged dart of total black glass malice—the Nine-Vulture Soul-Severing Curse.
The strike didn’t produce sound. It tightly packed the space around it into an empty pocket. It traveled at three times the speed of sound directly toward Lin Ke’s physical breastbone.
In zero-point-two seconds, Lin Ke’s mental sandbox completed the threat vector analysis:
Lin Ke’s math was instant and brutal.
If he dodged, the strike would tear straight through the Grand Pavilion, decapitating Shen Yue and obliterating Meng Shan’s grounding channels in the vault below.
