Chi.
A blade cut across the air, a pair of Gold Mancy soldiers falling to their knees as their heads tumbled to the ground.
Theron lightly tapped a foot, his aura so deathly calm that the wind itself didn't seem to want to disturb his movement. There was a fluidity to the way he stepped, almost like a dance through the air, an attunement with the pulling and pushing waves of the moon's gravity that rippled through his body.
He could feel the moon more clearly now than ever before, and the strength of the tug made his mind wander in ways and toward ideas and curiosities that made him feel as though he were pulling open a library of books for the first time.
As time passed, cultivation was only becoming more and more fascinating to him. But tonight, he wasn't willing to indulge that fascination. He only cared to kill.
Theron slipped into the royal palace, his robes swaying with his steps.
Chi.
