She straightened from the deflection as if she'd merely brushed aside rain. "See? Not all cleaning needs to be done with brute force."
Tian Lei didn't answer, already pushing through the fog, his boots gliding over slick roots without slipping. His focus was razor-fine—his Soul Sense flaring, slicing through the poisonous haze like invisible currents.
The toad king croaked again, louder, its throat ballooning to grotesque size. The sound rattled the water itself—ripples racing out like fleeing minnows. Then, with shocking speed for its mass, it leapt.
Its bulk blotted out the pale sun.
Yuxin's eyes widened, but Tian Lei had already moved. His figure blurred—a single heartbeat of motion—and he was no longer beneath the shadow. He was above it.
The crane of his blade cut downward like a descending star.
Steel met flesh with a crack, and a line of searing light split across the toad king's warty hide.
