At the moment the old man made his move, Li Qing acted as well, and the Soul-breaking Arrow swiftly passed through his palm.
The old man stared at the shiny cross-shaped hole in his palm, his expression frozen for a good few seconds, then suddenly he threw away his oil-paper umbrella, pressing his left hand violently on his right palm, and let out a sharp cry.
Though the cry wasn't earth-shattering or ghostly mourning, it did a perfect job of mimicking a ghostly howl.
The palm was as big as a fan, which under normal circumstances was just an adjective, but on this old fellow, it was a realistic description; his palms were so large they seemed eerie, especially when compared to his thin, hunched stature.
It looked awkward no matter how you viewed it.
This was an irregular human being.
The Soul-breaking Arrow silently hovered at the old man's brow, gently tapping it.
