Clear waves, black hair, long spear.
With an unyielding sharpness, it intrudes into the vision.
The spear drags behind the person, trailing shallowly in the water.
But the person himself is like the spear's edge.
He is a cold star, a crescent moon.
A gleam in the vast darkness that can never be overlooked by the eye.
Setting up a formation now is too late.
Tai Yin flipped a circular Array Plate with his left hand and pressed it before him. Instantly, a swirling wind circled around him and Xiang Bei like blades of willow leaves.
With his right hand, he formed a mudra, his expression grave, "Who are you?"
He approached the stranger with utmost caution.
But the visitor said nothing, only strode faster and faster. Faster and faster. The boots stomped on the water surface, leaving footprints that lingered for a long time, the spear edge still slicing through the water, leaving that long water mark.
