"Hey... come look at this," a master scout from the third faction whispered, his voice trembling as he knelt down beside the massive, severed torso of a three-meter adult specimen. He dipped his gloved fingers into the fresh, bubbling green ichor.
"What is it?" a female mercenary leader demanded, her hand shaking as she gripped her twin daggers. "Is it an elder from the Heavenly Sword Pavilion? Did a Core Formation master come down from the inner peaks?"
"No," the scout whispered, his face turning completely pale as he looked up at the perfectly smooth, microscopic edge of the cut carapace. "Look at the trajectory. The strike entered from the front flank and exited through the rear spinneret in a single uninterrupted slash. There is no residual spiritual mist from a high-tier cultivation technique... but the ambient air around this wound is still vibrating."
"Vibrating with what?!" the one-eyed leader snarled, grabbing the scout by his collar and lifting him up. "Speak, damn it!"
