Ten… twenty… thirty…
The boy's gaze swept over those slightly stunned faces. As if greeting them, he gave a faint nod: Not bad, this won't be too much trouble. As long as I'm fast enough…
He bent down, half-squatting, left hand braced against the floor, while the other dangling hand settled on the hilt of Li Hen.
As if readying himself for a sprint.
No warning, no greeting. In the instant their eyes met, there was only a consummate level of Projection Skills—Shooting Ceremony·Fierce!
The boy's figure flickered abruptly, vanished, and had already shot out like a ghost.
Not even the sound of the air being torn could be heard. No ripple of disturbance, even Dust had no time to flee. Only a bone-piercing chill rushed straight at them.
Amidst the crowd, the Ascension who'd been yawning suddenly shuddered, eyes widening on instinct, spiritual power erupting.
He felt death at arm's length.
Unfortunately, it was already too late.
