"Phew..."
From under the shadow of the cloak, two streams of warm breath slowly flowed out.
The figure standing still as a statue seemed to come alive, he pulled off his hat, revealing an icy cold face.
With narrow and skinny facial features, short eyebrows, the corners of his mouth and eyes gave people a sense of bitterness. On his left cheek was a thorn-like scar as long as an index finger, right next to the temple.
Slowly, the man extended his palm. Astonishingly, a mist-like vapor rose from the surface of his skin, draining away the color bit by bit. His once ruddy palm turned to a ghastly blue in an instant.
It was as if his entire body had been frozen like a corpse.
"The Hand of the Dark Demon...But why is it a fragment?"
He clenched his fist with gritted teeth.
