"Dingling——"
"Dingling——"
"Dingling——"
The bell sound was very crisp and pleasant, but to the ears of the followers of the Heretical Cult, it was most likely the devil's whisper.
Within this safety house, all ten to twenty cult followers fell into a 'halted state,' jamming up for a moment. Even among them, a figure known for extremely fast movement, likely a second-tier Awakener from the cult, was also paused for an instant.
Iron Fist got a clear view of this shadow.
He was dressed in a grey robe, his complexion pale but his arms muscular and forceful, sharp nails like a set of spikes. The sturdy walls of their safe house were as fragile as paper in front of these spikes.
Even including the young master from the East, his white Thunder Silk was often cut by these sharp nails.
Teamed with his ultimate speed, this gray-robed devotee was terrifying.
