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Space itself tore, silent but for the faint ripples of its distortion. Wang Yu's neck split in an instant. The cut was absolute: bone severed, flesh parted, and every structure at the site of the spatial fissure divided cleanly in two. His head hadn't yet fallen, but his body and soul had already been neatly cut in half.
And yet, even with his head nearly severed and neck cleanly broken, Wang Yu did not stop moving. At the very moment Ethan Harris's warped sword descended, Wang Yu's thunder-wreathed fist drove forward to meet him.
Ethan's brows creased. He discarded the mangled blade without hesitation. Fighting spirit condensed in his hands, solidifying into a second sword of pure energy. He swept it upward to meet the incoming blow. The gathered force scattered, dividing into thousands of infinitesimal points that distributed evenly across Wang Yu's fist, dissolving the strike as though it had never existed.
But though the punch was deflected, the seventh-tier lightning spell coiled around his arm was not so easily denied. It tore through the air unhindered, a spear of light that shot straight toward Ethan's face.
A flick of the swordsman's fingers caused the blade to tremble.
The lightning veered mid-flight, seized by an invisible force, and coiled back upon itself, wrapping around Ethan's own sword...
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