The design was far too ornate to be practical as a sword, and even less so as a throwing knife.
Combined with Fu Qian's completely unskilled throw, the sudden attack was not only slow, but even spun gracefully through the air.
Clang!
Yet the next moment, a clear metallic ring sounded for the second time.
The sword had vanished into the thick fog, only to fly back at a much greater speed, as if it had struck a target rushing toward them.
Without another word, Fu Qian moved almost in perfect sync with the slender sword, taking several quick strides toward where it was about to land.
"There's something there!"
Only then did Reginald cry out, light flickering over his body.
But someone else was faster.
The broadsword in Simon's hand had already burst into metallic flames, and he stepped forward.
So this was the difference between field agents and desk jockeys!
Fu Qian couldn't help feeling impressed.
Compared with the hunter he'd met before, Simon's methods were clearly different.
The most obvious difference was that the leaden flames on his weapon weren't just a molten mass.
Aside from the bright lines along both edges of the blade, the leaden flames actually crawled in twisting patterns across the dark sword, tracing out ornate, bizarre designs.
Just like the sight of the cultists when they invoked their edicts.
Fu Qian had thought the weapon looked practical but not very ornate. Now, it was clear that its ornamentation was just as impressive.
It was easy to imagine that swinging this thing would require far more skill.
Clang!
As it turned out, imagination still needed to be tested.
The next moment, a louder impact rang out. Simon's sweeping slash, delivered as he stepped forward, suffered the same fate as the throwing knife and