The most relaxed person in the whole arena was, of course, Lancelot. The Sword Shadows of the Human Knight were like dried leaves swept up by a strong wind; many werewolves had stopped breathing even before hitting the floor, not to mention striking him.
However, these red-eyed werewolves, as if bewitched, kept swarming towards Lancelot. Perhaps the manipulator behind them wanted to wear out the Human Knight's stamina with sheer numbers, but with Lancelot's current strength, this intensity of battle could last an entire day without depleting his True Qi.
Bodies quickly piled up around Lancelot, gradually forming a low wall built of flesh and blood. Suddenly, the Human Knight sharply looked up, his gaze piercing through the phantasmal ceiling to a new figure that had appeared beside the eaves.
The werewolves' attack on Lancelot ceased, driven by an unspoken command, they turned to assault the Human Knight's comrades instead.
