The assassin's head flipped back, only managing to hang on upside down by that lonely and thin vertebra. A blood red and disgusting throat faced the no longer snowing blue sky.
Without time to take a breath, Fan Xian flipped his hand pulled up the long sword stuck into the snowy ground. Rising to his toes, he curled his body into a ball and retreated quickly backward. After he curled into a ball, the surface area of his body exposed to the air became smaller. The grey-white Overwatch Council robes covered his entire body without any gaps.
The crossbows rang out again and again, like the austere killings on West Lake, but very few landed around Fan Xian's body. His movements were truly too quick. Even fast crossbows were unable to hit him accurately.
Occasionally, a few bolts landed, but none were able to pierce through.
