Chapter 1841 Master In Three Arts

• Corpse puppets drew their strength from something foul and rancid, yet heavenly thunder was raw, blinding purity—unyielding, absolute. A sorcerous fighter could summon that very thunder through talismans, turning the sky itself into a punishing blade. Under such conditions, even a Semi Realm corpse puppet—let alone one at Complete Realm—stood no chance of surviving.
• Finnegan's fingers moved faster than mortal eyes could follow, weaving seal after seal that shimmered like silver threads in midair. “Go!” he roared. Four nephrite pendants shot upward, piercing the clouds before melting into the fabric of the sky itself.
• A rolling boom answered—thunder so raw it seemed to shake marrow from bone. Flashes of white-blue light split the heavens, searing retinas and turning every shadow razor-sharp.