The air inside the southern border canyon turned thick, tasting of rusted iron and copper as Lord Xue Ying stepped out of the red mist.
Every grain of shale and loose river cobble ceased its tumbling, pinned to the earth by an absolute spatial lock that froze the very atmosphere in place.
Ye Chen tried to raise the broken broadsword hilt, but his muscles locked up as if encased in solid lead, the immense density of the Peak Core Formation domain crushing his nervous system into rigid immobility.
Behind him, Han Ping and Zhang Yue stood entirely paralyzed against the basalt cliff, their eyes wide and glassy, unable to draw a single breath or blink away the cold sweat pooling on their brows.
SHING.
Lord Xue Ying glided across the frozen ledge without his boots touching the rock, the cur
