The unexpected silence was deafening, a void that swallowed the cacophony of battle and left only the faintest echo of dread in its wake.
Gu Wei and Pan Zhen froze in place, their expressions locked in identical masks of horror, their breaths shallow and uneven.
The lifeless, bisected body of the loose cultivator lay crumpled on the blood-soaked ground, a grotesque testament to the unseen force that had struck him down moments ago.
The cruel satisfaction that had once lit their faces now evaporated, replaced by an icy dread that seeped into their bones and rooted them to the spot.
"This… what kind of power is this?" Gu Wei's voice quivered, the bravado from moments ago utterly shattered.
His words hung in the air, unanswered, as if the valley itself refused to acknowledge his fear.
Pan Zhen did not reply. His gaze darted wildly around the battlefield, his fingers trembling against the hilt of his sword.