Pillars of thorned bone burst from the ground, twisting into spears and serpents. Faces screamed from their surfaces. A phantom blade forged from forgotten regrets formed in the Ephemerarch's hand—a sword of echoes.
It struck first.
Lin Mu barely dodged as the spectral blade ripped through reality itself, leaving a trail of bleeding space in its wake. The thorns chased him, piercing the sutra's light like spears of memory.
He struck back, hands weaving sword-intent with the Calming Heart Sutra. Where his strikes landed, phantoms were released—screaming, then fading in peace.
"Your light burns what I protect!" the Ephemerarch howled, driving his blade into the earth.
The ground ruptured.
Dozens of mirrored Lin Mus emerged—spectral doubles, each twisted by sorrow, loss, and rage.
They attacked.
