Immediately, the two massive, world-sized entities clashed.
There was no hesitation.
No testing of strength.
No elaborate techniques.
The moment they moved, they collided with a level of brutality that could only be described as feral.
This was no longer a battle between cultivators relying on techniques, battle arts, or carefully constructed abilities.
These forms were not illusions, nor were they simple transformations.
They were the most basic and authentic manifestations of their souls.
The truest forms of their existence.
And because of that, there was nothing restrained about their movements.
No elegance.
No unnecessary complexity.
Only instinct.
Only raw power.
"SHRKKKKKK!"
The sound of scales being shattered echoed through the void as the claws of the Primordial Dragon of Samsara tore through the shoulder of the King of the Scarlet Night.
Blood erupted.
Yet the injury did not slow the Sovereign.
