When the hell-like heat waves were gone and everything went back to normal, the druids and swordsmen had all turned into charcoal. Anfey slowly put the Fire sword back into the sheath. He suddenly frowned, grabbed the sword, spun, and tossed the sword out backhanded. He yelled at the same time, "Move."
The sword flew towards Ye with a whooshing sound. Ye’s reaction was fast. He lowered his body as he moved to the side. The sword pass against his side. He could feel the wind hitting his body and face, which gave him a kind of needle-like pinching pain.
The elf had stood up while Ye blocked Anfey’s view of the elf with his body. She quietly pulled the bowstring, but Anfey’s last punch hurt her organ pretty bad, so she was a little slower than usual. Before she fully pulled the bow, Anfey’s sword had shot at her throat with great accuracy.
