For a moment, the room fell quiet. The delegates from the Northern Mystery Martial World ceased their actions, turning their heads one after another to look over.
Their sharp eyes projected like lasers, leaving the scar-faced man feeling like he had been seen right through, as if he were standing naked before them.
The hairs on his arms stood on end, inch by inch.
It felt like being targeted by top predators, a whole pack of them. The scar-faced man was momentarily paralyzed where he stood.
His brain went blank, instinctively scared, but the side effects of his beast blood transfusion kicked in. In simple terms, the scar-faced man continued his previous thought abruptly, "It was you who was called Dusk, right?"
He pointed his finger at a lean old man in a striped suit who had descended from the staircase above. Compared to the abnormal crowd around, a white-haired, kindly smiling old man seemed most normal.
