The silence shattered.
A guttural roar tore from the bandits as they surged forward, qi flaring like wild flames. The hall shook under the weight of a dozen killing intents, steel flashing, talismans burning, and blades of spirit-light cleaving toward Tian Lei from every direction.
He did not flinch.
Tian Lei's foot shifted half a step, and the marble beneath him cracked like ice. His palm rose—not with haste, but with inevitability.
Shua!
A single arc of energy swept outward, invisible yet absolute. Weapons split in midair, shattered halves spinning away as if they had never been forged. The bodies behind them followed, torsos and limbs severed in clean, impossible lines.
Screams tore through the hall, mingled with the sound of blood striking stone.
Yet Tian Lei was already moving. His form blurred between the collapsing corpses, a phantom weaving through carnage. Each step landed with surgical precision, each movement carrying the inevitability of a guillotine.
