Qin Morian's chest heaved.
Across the battlefield—
Shaurya walked toward him.
Slowly.
Each step cracked the ground.
Golden aura rolled quietly around his body, heavy and suffocating, pressing against the air like the presence of something far older and far more dangerous than a mere cultivator.
His expression held no anger now.
No shouting.
No fury.
Only cold.
Merciless cold.
Qin Morian's fingers curled into fists.
His teeth ground together, jaw trembling from both rage and pain.
"I…" he rasped, blood dripping from his lips.
His violet aura flared violently again, swirling around his body like a storm clawing for life.
"I will not be afraid of you, brat!"
He roared and lunged forward.
"I will crush you!"
His fist shot toward Shaurya's face like a cannon.
But Shaurya didn't move.
At the last moment—
His hand rose.
And caught it.
CLACK.
Shaurya's fingers closed around Qin Morian's fist.
The sound of bone grinding echoed faintly across the battlefield.
