No. Those explosive pills were not options.
But before Han Yu could think further, one of the Mist Eye Sect's younger disciples,a Qi Refining cultivator emboldened or perhaps foolish, stepped forward. The boy sneered, raising his weapon as if to test the defenses of the other side.
A sharp crack split the air.
A bolt of condensed energy, like lightning without thunder, shot from one of the black altars. It slammed into the youth's arm with brutal force.
"AAAHHH!"
The disciple screamed as his arm blackened, the flesh sizzling under the searing light. His weapon clattered to the floor as he stumbled back, clutching the burned limb. Though not dead, his body shook violently from the pain, his face pale as wax.
The chamber froze. For a heartbeat, the only sound was his ragged breathing.
Then the altars erupted.
