The aftershocks of the powerful Psychic's battle, the blade that had torn through her Power Armor and pierced her abdomen—it all tolled like a death knell in her ears.
The blue and purple neon of the Spiritual Power Spectacle tried again and again to drag her soul into chaos and madness. The agonized cries of eternal war relentlessly invaded her mind, whispering a Demon's seductions.
The residual Witchcraft Energy from the broken Power Sword transformed into countless steel needles that ran rampant inside her, piercing flesh and bone. Every second was torture.
Lu Jia could clearly feel her sword hand beginning to tremble uncontrollably, and her breathing grew increasingly ragged. Every exhale was like fire, scorching her throat and sinuses.
As she lifted her head, for a split second, her vision went black and the world swam around her.
But she still raised her weapon on instinct, parrying the enemy's attack based on the last image she remembered.
BANG—!
