Yi Dongmu wasn't the only one dexterous in the arts of assassination; Han Sen was, too.
When the cane approached Han Sen's forehead, he made a quick dodge to the left. As he moved, he threw his palm towards the spirit's chest like the sudden lunge of a snake.
The Devil-Blood King coldly snickered, seemingly prepared for this. His dagger-like fingers snatched Han Sen's wrist, and his lethal nails pierced through the armor and into the flesh.
"You have already been poisoned by my Devil-Blood powers. How can you willfully elect to escape? And worse yet, attempt to assassinate me. Fool; do you have a death wish?" The Devil-Blood King was ready to break Han Sen's wrist.
"Not really." Han Sen's eyes glimmered with amusement. He reversed his hand and a fairy appeared, blowing white mist into the Devil-Blood King's face.
In a single moment, the spirit became ice.
