"Motherfucker!"
Ye Yang yelled, pushing himself up, his legs unsteady beneath him. Blood trickled from his nose and the corner of his mouth, a testament to the internal strain of his last attack.
"Didn't I tell you you'll regret this? Now get ready to die!"
Ignoring the agony in his chest and the warning bells screaming in his mind, Ye Yang channelled the spatial Qi once more.
The air around him warped, a visible distortion shimmering into existence. With a hoarse cry, he swung his sword, not with practiced form, but with the desperate, raw power of his will, sending another wave of spatial energy tearing towards Training Head.
The effort was immense, a crushing weight on his already depleted body. He coughed violently, a spray of blood staining the ground, his vision tunnelling as he felt his knees buckle.
