Celestial Severing Blade.
One slash, clean through.
The strike wasn’t quick; it was calm, unhurried, letting even ordinary folks see exactly how that palm was raised high, how it came crashing down, and how it landed right on top of the Divine’s skull. The floating talisman array seemed fake, like its only job was to pin the Divine in place, leaving him helpless. The tough golden aura protecting him was like tofu—one touch from that severing palm, and it crumbled instantly.
And then, the Divine’s whole body became the perfect definition of "cutting through with ease." Slash after slash, nothing stood in the way, nothing could resist. Jill Young’s palm edge was like a god-forged blade made to sever immortals, splitting the Divine right down the midline. Where her palm passed, the searing wound didn’t bleed—it looked more like molten lava.
But at the same time, this slash was fast—shockingly fast, so fast it was almost impossible to comprehend. One moment, Jill Young’s hand was raised high, all the world’s momentum gathering in her palm; the next, the strike was already finishing, a wave of ruthless energy sweeping in every direction. It was as if a new dividing line had suddenly appeared between heaven and earth—both invisible and formless, yet undeniably real.
The Divine, shining like a golden statue, was split right down the middle by that dividing line—left and right, cleanly separated. That look of shock, those tense muscles, that ruined body—everything was split along that line. And then, the halves drifted apart, farther and farther, until what was once a whole was now heading in two completely different directions.
BOOM!!
A violent explosion, blinding white light—it all erupted at once. Like a super bomb going off right there, a savage blast tore up the ground. Sand whipped up like the Red Sea parting for Moses, roaring upward. Cracks split the earth where the palm landed, and blinding white lightning—like the dying roar of a slain thunder god—flared everywhere, terrifying, wild, devouring and dissolving everything in its path, yet fleeting, like a last desperate bloom.
After a long while, the wind died down, the clouds scattered, and that indescribable dividing line vanished without a trace. The crackling static field faded away too. The earth bore a terrifying scar, and a whole chunk of cliff had collapsed. Maybe, someday, these marks would be erased by endless wind and sand, but right now, anyone who saw the aftermath would be shaken to their core by the sheer, inhuman power on display.
Starlight spilled down. Someone walked gracefully through the glow—it was Dream Monroe.