The night was dim, a dark figure leaped into the air, and a few streaks of silver light flashed around Xi Lao, with several Silver Needles flying past the edge of his body.
Xi Lao vigilantly surveyed his surroundings, keeping his trembling right hand behind him. There was a red dot in the center of his palm, and upon closer inspection, it was bleeding.
Just moments ago, he had dodged with all his might, but still, one Silver Needle had completely pierced through his palm.
Under the cover of night, accompanied by a desolate breeze, a person in a mask, dressed in a black robe, stepped forward.
Xi Lao's forehead was covered in fine sweat as he gazed at the figure in black in front of him, his face a picture of horror.
"Who exactly are you?!" The pain in his right hand made Xi Lao wary—this sudden black-clad figure's strength was certainly not inferior to his, perhaps even stronger!
