Crisis (7)

The frozen battlefield trembled as two True Gods clashed, their every movement rewriting the laws of reality. Lin Xinyao's lunar blade met Jian Yun's silver sword in a cataclysmic dance, each strike carving wounds in the fabric of space itself.

"Lunar Eclipse!"

Lin Xinyao's sword flared as she summoned a miniature moon behind her, its pale light distorting gravity. The surrounding mountains lifted from the ground, floating like pebbles in a pond as she swung—

Jian Yun countered by splitting his sword into thousands of fragments, each one a razor-sharp sliver of annihilating energy.

The fragments erupted toward Lin Xinyao like a metallic storm.

She spun, her blade weaving a net of moonlight that deflected most—but not all. Several shards pierced her arms and legs, drawing ribbons of blood.

She didn't falter.

Instead, she clapped her hands—