Mars' POV
The lake was gone.
What remained was a vast, broken basin, its water scattered or evaporated, the ground beneath carved with overlapping scars.
Mars stood near the center of it, chest rising and falling unevenly, his armor cracked, blood running freely down his side.
Around him lay bodies.
Cultivators.
Hundreds of them.
Some had been cut down cleanly. Others had been burned, crushed, or shattered beyond recognition.
The Shadow Beyond the World Dao left little behind when its users died, but even accounting for that, the scale was obvious.
Mars had killed countless cultivators.
He wiped blood from the corner of his mouth and exhaled slowly, steadying himself.
His movements were heavier now.
Then he twisted his head.
The space beside him folded.
Mars dodged without thinking, his body moving on instinct as a blade of compressed darkness passed where his neck had been a moment earlier.
He countered immediately, fist slamming into the distortion.
