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"Switching to spells now?"
Liu Zheng thought for a moment, didn't try to dodge, but raised the statue to shield his head.
Blood arrows shot down fiercely, burying into his flesh.
The cold, sticky sensation crawled over his whole body, but soon dissipated, replaced by a bone-deep corrosion.
Every spot struck by the blood arrows sizzled audibly, his flesh bubbling like boiling water.
If he were an ordinary person, just one arrow would either turn him into a Beast or corrode him down to a skeleton.
But Liu Zheng's blood was of much higher quality than the so-called "Holy Blood," yet its divine power was far less than the Blood Flame blessed by a higher being, hence the searing situation.
Unearthly pain sawed through his nerves like Chopin.
Had he not endured countless tortures in the Metropolis, he wouldn't have been able to stand it.
But now, Liu Zheng just stared fixedly at Dickens, then lifted the statue with a sinister smile.
