The air split with Tom Carr's roar as his aura burst outward, pressing down on the hall like a tidal wave. Flames guttered in the torches, and disciples staggered back, their knees shaking under the crushing weight. The very stone tiles groaned as cracks splintered beneath the clan head's feet.
Tom raised his hand, qi swirling into a blade of light. His killing intent speared toward Robert's chest.
But before he could strike, the Shadow Reaper stirred.
At first, it was subtle—a change in the atmosphere, the slight bending of the torchlight. The aura then soared. Like black water bursting a dam, a cold, ancient pressure poured into the hall.
The effect was immediate. Tom Carr's forward step faltered. His body stiffened, as though an invisible mountain had fallen across his shoulders. His weapon of light sputtered, flickered, and collapsed into nothing.
