At present, there wasn’t any alternative left for Alan Dale, further contemplation would only serve to weaken his fighting spirit.
Thus, he heaved deeply as he emptied needless thoughts from his heart. His footwork became more bewitching, while his attacking pattern turned queer. Yet one could vividly observe, his rapier thrusts had morphed into silks of thread; like a flexible yet durable yarn, as it incessantly carved out stripes of wounds on Sheyan’s body.
In view that he had occupied the upper hand, Alan Dale gradually believed victory was attainable. How much blood a person had was how much it would flow; how many more wounds can he endure? With his unswerving perseverance, he would inevitably emerge victorious.
Yet while Alan Dale’s confidence started to restore from such thoughts, an unexplainably freakish growl transmitted from Sheyan’s body. Indeed, Sheyan had awaited all for this moment, the moment his passive ability of his ‘Barbarous Crust Armour’ was activated.
