CRASH!
Emperor Ming groaned, half-submerged in the river, golden blood pouring from his mouth. His ribs poking through torn skin, his face a mask of pulp.
Then.... SCRAAAATCH.
A noise like steel being cut, he turned.
The river ahead was blinding white. To his side, black as tar. Karma reversed? Impossible.
He glanced up at the vast deity above, galaxies for veins, voids for eyes, hands spilling rivers of light and shadow. The answer had to be her.
But Wang Xiao's voice dragged his gaze back.
The sword wasn't slicing water. It was splitting the river itself. Every draw shrieked metal on metal as he walked closer.
"Tell me," Wang Xiao said, eyes cold, "do you know what the true success of a civilization is?"
The Emperor's breath shivered. He didn't care. Panic broke through the pain, his eyes darted to the deity's endless orbs, and he screamed:
