The moonlight was cold and clear, and peace was restored on the long street once more.
With the Magician's Divine Soul restrained, the battle had come to an end.
"What is this?"
Zhao Douan dropped the hilt of his knife, his tightly strung muscles relaxed, and a large buildup of lactic acid caused his muscles to ache faintly.
Killing with one stroke seemed smooth but was not easy.
The cost of a high burst of energy was the instantaneous consumption of most of his energy, and his fragile meridians as a mortal Martial Artist endured a pressure that should not exist at this realm.
The energy was too harsh—it hurt him!
"Swallow this."
The young girl in dark priest robes seriously tied a yellow-skinned gourd around her waist; the colorful ghost face on its surface seemed to be slumbering.
She turned back and added,
"A Suppressing Object."
Her tone was as if she was saying, "Grass, a type of plant."
"Like a Magic Artifact?" Zhao Douan used a familiar concept for comparison.
