The sword rang like a dragon's roar, tearing through the Black Tower's deathly silence, unchanged for a thousand years.
In an instant, the world in Wang Xian's eyes split in two.
Before him was the streak of black swordlight slashed out by the bone monster; behind him was the afterimage left by his own rapid retreat.
In the blink of an eye, he shot back dozens of yards. His heels had barely found their footing when the shrill wail pierced his marrow.
It was not a sound any human could make.
It was not even a cry any living being should make.
It was as desolate as the first cold wind sweeping across an ancient wasteland, as heartrending as the whimper in a mother beast's throat as she licked her cub's icy corpse.
The sound spiraled upward through the tower, crashing against invisible walls and shattering into millions of sharp echoes.
Wang Xian covered his ears, only to realize the sound was coming from within him.
In that instant, every bone in his body vibrated in resonance.
"Clang!"
The swordlight had reached his face.
Wang Xian twisted aside. The blade grazed his cheek, drawing a string of blood droplets.
Before the droplets could hit the ground, the spreading black mist swallowed them in midair. The fog came strangely, like ink spilled into water, instantly staining the void for a hundred yards in every direction black.
No, it wasn't staining the void black.
The void itself was rotting.
Wang Xian's pupils contracted.
He saw it clearly... The black fog was made of countless tiny, writhing runes. Every rune shrieked, gnawing at space itself.
The world inside the tower was being transformed into some alien existence. The laws twisted here; gravity vanished one moment and multiplied the next, while light was wrenched