SWOOSH!
SWOOSH!
One after another, as swift as slingshots, hands adeptly drew arrows from the quiver slung across her back. Arrows were released with purpose, aimed at the writhing Blood Slaves, their bodies ablaze under the harsh sun's light.
Zhao Ling's striking emerald gaze remained fixed on the spectacle. She gasped, perspiration forming droplets on her forehead, as beads of sweat mixed with determination.
Standing beside her, Xiao Yue clutched a kitchen knife, her demeanor solemn as she surveyed the approaching Blood Slaves. Her daughter had retreated several meters away, out of harm's way.
With their bodies engulfed in fire, it was evident that these advancing Blood Slaves wouldn't persist for long, given their current condition.
