Qingxiao retreated over a hundred feet, came to a stop, and moved no more.
His robes swayed gently in the wind, and the surging blood energy and cursed energy around him settled as well, drawn in completely.
Like a heavy blade returned to its sheath, its edge wholly concealed, he stood in cold, unyielding stillness.
He raised his left hand, holding his palm upright at the center of his chest, flat as a whetstone and utterly motionless.
His right hand slowly clenched into a fist at his side, his knuckles cracking, before rising steadily in front of him.
It passed his waist, his shoulder, and his brow, finally stopping directly above his head, the inside of his fist facing down.
He bowed his head slightly and lowered his eyes, his lashes hiding the light in their depths, even his breathing growing exceedingly faint.
Not a trace of cursed energy leaked from him. He stood silently in the center of the ruins like a weathered rock steeped in ash.
In the ruins opposite him, Sukuna had only just reconnected most of his broken bones, and his caved-in chest had risen somewhat.
He braced himself against a ruined wall and straightened up, his two broken arms dangling at his sides, his face streaked with blood, all four eyes fixed on Qingxiao.
He backed off?
He had me completely pinned down in close combat, held every advantage, and chose to back off?
Wouldn't putting distance between us just give me more room to activate my cursed techniques and recover?
That thought had barely begun to form when he saw a faint, three-colored glow appear on the fingers of Qingxiao's upright hand.
The fingertips of Sukuna's four hands dug viciously into his palms. Black blood seeped between his fingers and dripped onto the rubble.