The jagged rock, humming with violet electricity, tore through the sky like a railgun slug. It didn't just hit the Taoists; it erased them. The impact turned the two flyers into a mist of red vapor and shredded silk. Amidst the falling debris, a sleek, reinforced smartphone—the high-tech communication device used by the Celestial elite—tumbled through the air.
Ethan leaped, catching the device mid-air before landing heavily on the cracked highway. The screen was cracked, but the holographic projection was still active.
The Ancestor's face hovered in the air, his features distorted by a grief that was rapidly curdling into a genocidal rage. For the first time, the two titans looked directly at each other.
"So," Ethan said, wiping a smear of blood from his cheek and looking into the hologram with a mocking smirk. "You must be the old man. I'd say it's a pleasure, but you look like you've already started decomposing."
