The sense of danger descended even before Jin Jiuchi's last word could settle in the air.
It was a sensation far more intense than anything Shen Nianzu had experienced before; his scalp prickled, his muscles stretched taut with tension, every cell in his body was screaming and clamoring— Danger! Danger! Danger! An invisible pressure weighed down on his body until his knees buckled, but he gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to kneel, the ground beneath his feet shattering with a sharp crack. He could even hear his bones creaking and groaning under the oppressive force.
"Nian'er!"
Jin Jiuchi cried out—Shen Nianzu swore he had never heard the man sound so alarmed before—but his voice sounded distant, muffled, as if there was a layer of thick glass separating them.
Shen Nianzu wanted to answer, but he didn't even have the strength to open his mouth, let alone speak. A trail of blood gushed out of his eyes, nose, ears and lips, warm rivulets streaking down his face.
