Blood of Supreme Yang, Heroes Gathered

A foul wind struck his face. The enormous black shadow blotted out the sun and came crashing down like Mount Tai, bearing a sickening stench of decay.

The eerie blue gleam on its claws was less than three inches from Qin Geng's heart.

The cries of alarm below the platform were still caught in the crowd's throats.

Qin Geng's upper body did not move. His black ceremonial robe snapped in the wind, but not even its hem fell out of place.

Yet in that instant, his feet took root.

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His toes dug hard into the altar's planks. The thick red-pine boards groaned under the strain.

His spine snapped straight with a sharp twang, like the string of a bow drawn to its limit breaking all at once.

His blood surged like mercury through his Sickly Tiger Bones, roaring like rivers in flood.

Qin Geng's body tipped backward at an impossible angle. But he was not falling. Pivoting on his left foot, he twisted as though an invisible giant hand had wrenched him around.

Riding that twist, his right leg swept past several wooden spike stakes beside him. Blood sprayed from his right calf. Then his leg continued its arc, a steel whip lashing out of the abyss with a shriek that tore through the air, striking second but arriving first.

Xingyi, Dragon-Tiger Unity.

Tail Scissor!

There was nothing fancy about the kick. Only speed pushed to its limit, and weight to match.

Thoom!

A deep, heavy boom exploded across the altar.

It was like a thousand-pound temple striker slamming into a ten-thousand-pound bronze bell.

Qin Geng's heel struck the Black-Furred Monster square between the chest and abdomen.

For an instant, time seemed to stop.

Then came