"Tap..."
They were incredibly leisurely, relaxed footsteps.
Like an ordinary person who could not see the situation around them at all and had wandered onto a battlefield by mistake, they carried not the slightest tension, creating an extraordinarily jarring contrast with the surroundings.
Fang Li stared ahead and saw the owner of those footsteps.
"What a wonderful show. I enjoyed it immensely too. You really worked hard to put on such a painstaking performance."
Speaking in such a condescending manner, the owner of the footsteps entered Fang Li's sight.
It was a man.
A man dressed primarily in red. His build looked utterly ordinary, as though he had undergone no special training, yet he exuded an extremely unnatural and oppressive presence.
The expression on the man's face perfectly matched his footsteps.
That was right.
It was the sort of expression that was relaxed and leisurely, as though he had not kept up with the situation around him at all.
Yet it was precisely because he wore such an expression that outsiders could understand.
This man did not take the war raging in London seriously in the slightest.
Of course, what drew even more attention than the man's sudden appearance was what he held in his hands.
They were two people.
Two people very familiar to both Fang Li and Kerisha.
"Index..."
Fang Li involuntarily spoke the identity of one of them.
It was Index.
However, just as Kerisha had said, Index was still asleep.
At that moment, Index lay in the sudden man's arm, carried out by him.
As for the other person, Kerisha's expression changed.
"William Orwell!"
That was right.
It was William.
"Ugh..."
A faint, pained groan escaped William's lips.
On closer inspection, William's entire body was covered in wounds, to the point that he could practically be