Wraith-043 stared in paralyzed silence at the woman before him. To badmouth a title like Crimson Sword Master, a name cultivators would kill to possess, was insanity. But the sight of the chaotic, elemental Qi spiraling around her fists and the tips of her hair bleeding into a molten red sent a jolt of primal terror through his heart.
For the first time since he had stepped into the world of shadows, he felt a fear so raw it eclipsed any threat he had ever faced from royal decrees or sect masters.
His composure shattered. Cold sweat poured down his face, and his voice came out in a pathetic, jagged stammer. "A-are you... from that Clan?"
Yilan offered no answer. She merely began to walk, each step heavy with the weight of an approaching cataclysm. The air around her shimmered and warped from the sheer heat radiating from her skin.
