Feng Chen stood in the midst of chaos, his fully transformed figure radiating divine power. The battlefield, once an arena of relentless combat, had now fallen into a heavy silence.
His long, white hair swayed gently in the dying wind, shimmering with an ethereal glow. The golden mark on his forehead pulsed in sync with his breathing, its twisting lines resembling the very slashes of a blade suspended in time.
His eyes, vibrant cerulean, flickered with the cold, detached calm of someone who had crossed too many lines to care anymore. His body was a canvas of power... golden scripture tattoos weaved across his skin, their ancient symbols thrumming with life, pulsing with the energy coursing through his veins.
He cast his gaze downward at his Yin and Yang. Their wounds, though mended on the surface, still held the weight of the violence they had endured.
