"Hmm?"
Wang Xiuyuan's expression tightened slightly.
Chaisang suddenly stopped.
In an instant, he switched from a relentless barrage like wind and rain to complete stillness.
This utterly abrupt shift in rhythm caused a fleeting stagnation in Wang Xiuyuan's stance, which had been poised to redirect force.
The next attack he had been prepared to guide away never came, and in that instant, his center of gravity tipped half an inch forward.
Just half an inch.
Chaisang's right claw had already slashed in from the side, precisely seizing the sliver of weakness exposed by Wang Xiuyuan's shifted balance.
The claw tips pierced the thin yin-yang barrier over his Taiji Daoist robe, five Void awl-like fingertips stabbing half an inch beneath Wang Xiuyuan's left ribs.
There was no blood—or rather, the blood had been directly swallowed by those claw tips.
The flesh around the wound rapidly shriveled and withered as though all its moisture had been drained away, taking on the color of dead ash.
Wang Xiuyuan let out a muffled grunt and staggered several steps sideways. His left hand pressed against the wound beneath his ribs, and the blood seeping through his fingers was an unnatural dark violet.
His face had turned two shades paler, but his eyes remained calm.
"Your circle missed a beat."
Standing in the distance, Chaisang extended his tongue and licked the dark violet blood staining his claw tips.
The thrill in those eyes like void whirlpools surged to the brink of losing control.
"Your blood... tastes wonderful."
Wang Xiuyuan drew a deep breath and slowly straightened.
He removed the hand pressing his wound. His left and right palms slowly came together before his chest, and the two phantom Taiji symbols between them merged into a complete Taiji Diagram.
The Taiji Diagram began spinning faster and faster.