The black boot jutted out slightly; if one didn't look closely, they wouldn't notice that something was hidden along the edge of the shoe.
The man's fingertips reached down and touched the cold metallic feel, the corner of his lips disguised under the mask turning up a cruel curve.
With a quick hook of his finger, the tiny controller moved swiftly to his palm. His thumb found the lone button on the controller, which he pressed without hesitation.
"Hahaha, Jian Qing, don't bother trying, there's no escaping."
A treacherous laughter, filled with eerie coldness rang out behind her.
Jian Qing turned to glance back. The man behind the mask had woken up. Removing his mask, his face, hidden for many years, was sickly white.
It was a nauseating sight, his face covered in a mix of deep and shallow scars – some from knives, others from whips. His deranged smile made him all the more repellent.
