Xingtian Wielding Shield and Axe in Dance
The drums began to pulse like a thunderous heartbeat, echoing through the ancient valley. Smoke from braziers, thick with the scent of sandalwood and pine, curled into the twilight, obscuring the faces of the gathered crowd and painting the world in shades of bronze and shadow. At the center of the clearing, a figure stood unnervingly still. This was Xingtian, a warrior whose name was once a battle cry, a loyal general of the Flame Emperor, Yan Di. His muscular torso was bare, his skin gleaming with sweat and ritual oil. But where his head should have been, there was only the smooth, terrible scar of a long-healed wound. Upon his chest, his eyes blazed with a fierce, unyielding light; below them, his mouth roared silent defiance.
