Death descended from the heavens, crushing all beneath.
A sudden and unexpected stomp shattered the foul creature, and seemingly silenced the voices of every onlooker.
The circular crater on the ground was like a punctuation mark, halting the chain of escalating screams in an instant.
Even their breaths seemed frozen.
When Fu Qian pulled his slick foot out from the center of the pit, still, no one dared to take their first breath.
Some of the people who had turned their backs on the square, attempting to flee amidst the chaos, found their movements equally frozen—they dared not continue running, nor did they dare to turn back, fearing any noticeable motion would draw attention.
This rigid posture spared them from having filth splatter onto their faces, instead relegating the mess to their backsides.
