Lin Fan came and went like a shadow, effortlessly and elegantly.
Upon hearing there was a fight to be had, his legs seemed to be blasted by jet engines, firing him forward in a blur of wind and fire, transforming instantly into streaks of residual shadows.
Wang Zhou wanted to check if it was Lin Fan arriving, but his vision blurred, unable to confirm the face—it was too fast, leaving him momentarily stunned.
Yuan Bei's expression changed dramatically before turning furious. He was moments away from killing Wang Zhou, but someone jumped in to stop him. Damn bastard.
"Courting death."
Yuan Bei's palms moved like lightning, forming shadows that rolled ahead in a suffocating tide.
Lin Fan raised his blade and slashed wildly, not bothering with techniques. It didn't matter if his Sword Skill was chaotic; it was chaos aimed straight at Yuan Bei.
He was almost trembling with excitement.
"How is that possible?"
