The construct crumples. Its flailing hands pick at the fracture in the back of its skull, as if unable to comprehend the damage -- until a few pieces of bone come away with a delicate snap.

It drops them, and as it crumbles to a cloud of pitch-black dust, three more skeletons rise where it fell. An odd red shimmer seems to trace their bones for an instant as they join the fray.

Wuxian smirks, hands still shoved deep in his pockets as he watches.