The expression on his face was utterly savage as he got ready to hit his target.
Every ounce of power he had accumulated was balled up in his fists, which were about to ram into Zhao Yao's chest.
The black man let rip a roar as he struck.
He hit nothing.
Like a phantom, Zhao Yao had disappeared into thin air.
"What?" he uttered, a look of disbelief on his face.
Zhao Yao was never actually there, facing down the black man. He was still concealed by Elizabeth's illusion, where he could safely conjure an apparition of himself.
As the black man remained rooted to the ground, stunned, Zhao Yao gently called Matcha's name.
For a moment, time stood still.
When it started ticking again six seconds later, the black man had been thrown off his feet and sent flying through the air.
He landed on the grass with a loud thump. He lay there, unmoving. The deafening whirling of the vortex had long died down.
It was silent.
