The man wearing a Painted Face Mask was unstoppable. In the blink of an eye, he reached the VIP ward where the intelligence report said Yu Qiushui was staying.
Because of the power outage, the ward was pitch-black. But with the Painted Face Mask's eyesight, he could still see a figure curled up in the corner of the bed.
The figure's hair was disheveled, and they had pulled the bedsheet over most of their body, looking utterly panicked.
The Painted Face Mask let out a cold snort and was about to advance when a glint of Cold Light suddenly flashed from the dim corner on his left.
Without even looking, the Painted Face Mask reached out and slapped down. His palm struck the tip of a square-edged, flat-headed spear.
The spearhead gleamed with Cold Light and looked incredibly sharp, yet it could not cut the Painted Face Mask's palm. Instead, the tremendous force knocked it off course and sent it swinging to the other side.
The spear-wielder shouted and unleashed Primal Energy, raising a hazy azure glow that illuminated Zheng Huan's face.
Zheng Huan yanked hard on the iron spear, halting its momentum. A flickering thread of azure light flashed across the short spear in his hand before he thrust it again toward the Painted Face Mask's ribs, determined to stop him from pouncing on the figure in the bed.
That only convinced the Painted Face Mask even more that the person on the bed had to be Yu Qiushui.
At that moment, an old woman's face covered in wrinkles suddenly appeared behind the Painted Face Mask. The illusory face was incredibly lifelike.
Although Zheng Huan was startled, the short spear did not stop.
The old woman's eyes, which had no pupils and were instead utterly black, turned toward Zheng