The air screamed.
Golden and grey fists raced toward each other—divine brilliance and ghostly corruption converging in a single instant. The world around them warped, as if time itself recoiled from their power.
With a swift motion, Shaurya blocked Yang Ling's fist with his left arm and slammed his right fist into his face.
Yang Ling flew backward, flipping through the air, his body piercing through a thick tree before crashing into the ground with an echoing thud.
Shaurya spun his wrist once, his expression cold and unreadable. He stepped forward slowly, dust curling around his feet.
Yang Ling rose, spitting thick black saliva onto the cracked earth. He rolled his neck until the joints popped and stretched his arms with eerie calm. His gaze met Shaurya's, a wide grin curling across his thin, grey face.
"Impressive," he said mockingly. "That almost tickles."
Their eyes locked—two titans staring into each other's existence.
For a heartbeat, the world fell utterly still.
