The man quickly reached out and pulled out the crossbow.
A blood-stained silver arrowhead faintly reflected light under the dim moonlight. Something seemed to have been smeared on the metallic surface of the arrowhead.
"It's those damn hunters, thorny mercury."
The curly-haired man frowned at the continuously bleeding wound.
Meanwhile, a figure in a black trench coat emerged from the shadows. He looked about twenty-five, had a buzz cut, an unruly demeanor, pale skin, and deep blue eyes.
He held a semi-automatic crossbow in his hand. On his right waist, he had a yellow quiver while a sharp long sword hung at his left waist.
With steady strides, the man in the trench coat came to Cathy, who was still in shock. He didn't look at her, but seemed to mutter to himself, "Using firearms against the Blood Clan is useless…"
