Zi Er's fan froze mid-swing. The air tasted wrong.
A tremor rippled through Li Song's Crushblades. "Sister… the planet."
Below them, the dead world's shadow pulsed. Jagged fissures split its surface, vomiting geysers of black flame. Yang Wu's true form knelt at the epicenter, palm pressed to the crust. Veins of crimson light spiderwebbed outward from his touch—an ancient, half-shattered formation flickering to life.
"Borrowed Blood Art: Nine Hells Chain Array."
The technique's name wasn't a lie. Yang Wu he'd ripped it from a screaming devil general's soul three decades ago.
Zi Er lunged with her fan carving a screaming arc of violet lightning. "Destroy the formation!"
Too late.
The dead planet detonated.
