The ambient temperature, already cold, plummeted sharply. But it wasn't the clean, cold of Xie Wangchen's Ice Qi.
It was a heavy, suffocating heat. A violent, blood-scented pressure that made it hard to breathe.
Step. Step. Step.
The sound of heavy boots echoed on the cobblestones, slow and deliberate.
The fog parted like a curtain, giving way to a king.
A figure stepped into the dim light of the village.
He was incredibly tall, easily dwarfing every other disciple present. He didn't wear the standard uniform of the Outer Sect.
Instead, he wore robes of deep, abyssal black silk, edged with dark, oxidized crimson that looked suspiciously like dried blood.
His black hair was wild, untamed, falling around a face that was brutally, aggressively handsome, with sharp angles, a strong jaw, and a permanent, arrogant sneer playing on his lips.
He held a massive, double-bladed halberd slung casually over one broad shoulder. The weapon was dripping with fresh, black monster blood.
