The air inside the subterranean core had settled into a stagnant, suffocating soup of vaporized stone, copper, and boiling marrow.
The golden radiance that had violently erupted from Yun Ming's frame continued to hiss, its borrowed, unnatural frequency grinding against the natural leylines of the subterranean bedrock.
Pinned against the massive dragon-wood and spirit-iron pillar, Ling Luochen hung broken.
Her head rested limply against her blood-soaked collarbone, her long, pink locks matted with sweat and gore.
The broad crescent blade of the halberd remained buried deep in the center of her chest, anchoring her lungs and ribcage directly into the stone behind her.
Dark crimson blood ran in steady, sluggish streams from the four golden stakes piercing her palms and the tops of her feet, forming a dark, steaming puddle across the fractured granite below.
