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The sight left the Lu Xuanxian momentarily blank. A beat later wariness and bewilderment clouded his eyes.
A living man, he seemed to wonder, yet he’s shaping himself like a lingering soul steeped in pure Yin energy. How is that possible?
An obsession sculpted by Yin birthed a ghost; the living had no part in that. And yet the man before him was doing exactly that, or something even stranger.
Thoughts could not keep pace with action.
Lu Xuanxian’s battlefield and the vast wheel of weapons behind him had finished coalescing just as Li Yuan’s own preparation reached completion. It was as though the two had stepped back, brewed their ultimate moves, and triggered them at the very same heartbeat.
Lu Xuanxian stood amid the ruins, the wheel of steel hundreds of feet wide whirring behind his back. His eyes went round at what faced him.
In the center of Li Yuan’s skull, still nothing but bone, a vertical pupil had opened. It was half-illusory, half-solid, an eye woven...
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