The carriage stopped with a jolt that sent a spike of pain through Han Sen's chest. The smell of hot iron and scorched stone filled the cabin. He leaned his head against the wood, feeling the vibrations of heavy, rhythmic footsteps outside.
Zhao Ling grabbed his sleeve, her knuckles white. She looked out the window and then back at him, her jaw tight. "It's Wei. He's Level 82. He won't care about the trial rules."
Han Sen checked his status. The red bar was a thin, flickering line.
[HP: 2/10]
[Status: Extreme Fragility]
He opened the carriage door and stepped out. The air outside felt heavy, pushing against his lungs as if he were standing at the bottom of a deep lake. Elder Wei stood ten paces away, his grey robes perfectly still despite the wind.
Wei looked at Han Sen with a heavy, predatory focus. It was the look a butcher gave to a piece of meat. He raised a hand, and a small sphere of black light formed between his fingertips.
"The Sect Master wants an end to this joke," Wei said. He flicked his wrist. The black light shot forward, silent and absolute.
Han Sen didn't move. He opened his system and activated the new skill: [Void-Walk: Reality Phase].
The black light hit his chest and passed through him. It didn't explode. It hissed as it struck the carriage behind him, erasing a circular hole in the wood and the stone road without making a sound.
Han Sen stood in the center of the road. His body shimmered like a heat mirage. He felt the cold air passing through his ribs, a strange sensation of being untethered from the ground.
[HP: 1/10]
[Warning: Physical vessel is phasing. Death is imminent.]
Wei's expression finally broke. He stared at the hole in the carriage and then at Han Sen. His gaze grew sharp, his hand tightening into a fist. "A phantom? No. I can still see the blood on your lip."
"You can see it," Han Sen said, his voice a low rasp. He adjusted the iron badge on his cloak, his fingers steady. "But you can't reach it."
Ten blue needles drifted out from his sleeves. They began to vibrate, their hum so high-pitched it made the nearby shop windows crack.
Han Sen took a step forward. He was a Level 1 boy with a broken body, but as he looked at the Level 82 Sovereign, he was the one moving with cold determination.
"My level is 1," Han Sen said, his eyes locking onto Wei's. "But your level is irrelevant."
The needles turned from blue to a terrifying, absolute white. The air around Wei began to implode, drawing the dust and loose stones toward Han Sen's fingers. The Sovereign took an involuntary step back, his hand hovering over the hilt of his sword.