The mist seemed to shiver as a blurry shadow moved through the room; the Jiang Hu man widened his eyes, but he could see nothing clearly. Something was wrong, so he rolled away from the shadow.
But as he rolled, pain struck his waist and his body grew lighter as he rolled his way into a corner.
In front of him, Ning Yi calmly gathered his sleeves as he distracted the man; in the corner where the man had rolled, Feng Zhiwei stood with sword in hand.
As she gestured with her sword, Ning Yi's ears twitched and he pointed behind her; without looking, Feng Zhiwei slashed the sword backwards, under her arm.
A man clutched his throat and fell to the ground; even in his moment of death, confusion filled him — how had that sword gone from Feng Zhiwei's armpit to his throat?
With the sound that accompanied the four deaths, everyone woke.
