Under the tree's shade, Clemora sat down. She was struggling to keep her eyes open because whatever happened next was up to the young man that stood in front of her.
His black hair swayed along with his sarong as he faced the four assassins without any hint of fear. His standing making him look like a war god who was about to chop some fish on the board.
Lyon crossed his arm as he smirked toward the group of four.
His sentence was still lingering inside the assassin's heads. They were wondering as to what he meant by 'the assassin's irony' but one of them was focusing on him instead.
A space attribute cultivator was among the rarest of the rare. They were among the ones that could overcome cultivators of a higher level than their own and changed the tide of battle in an instant. In their eyes, one meter and one kilometer were the exact same thing. Blink and your head might be flying.
