Long Chen's hand reached toward the portal, his fingers mere centimeters from the swirling energy that would take him into the Slaughter Line's hidden vault. He could feel the pull of it, the promise of techniques and weapons that would make him stronger than he'd ever imagined.
Then time stopped.
Not metaphorically. Actually stopped.
Long Chen's hand froze mid-reach, his body locked in place as if reality itself had pressed pause. Yan Shou's form became a statue mid-breath, the guardian's eyes fixed on the portal without blinking. Even the spiritual formations covering the walls went still, their energy patterns suspended mid-pulse.
Everything was completely, utterly frozen.
Except Long Chen's consciousness.
He could still think, still observe, still feel the panic rising in his chest as he tried to move and found his body completely unresponsive.
'What's happening? System? Azazel?'
