The assassin stared, suddenly seized by a bizarre and suffocating panic. The broadsword in his trembling hand dropped, and he hurriedly snatched it back up, his terror driving him into a frenzy as he leaped forward to hack at Ling Yun a few more times before breaking into a wild, indiscriminate slashing spree.
"Ah, ah, ah! I'll hack you, I'll hack you to death, you goddamned freak!" The assassin roared, his eyes bloodshot as if he were treating Ling Yun as the ultimate outlet for his rage.
A few minutes later he grew tired, too exhausted to move another inch, figuring the target had to be dead by now after being hacked into hundreds of pieces.
Your turn. I'll use you to make my cut and finish the assignment.
He had no intention of leaving any retreat path; he would strike once and flee, as the Zhao Family had far too many cultivators stronger than him, and many guards were already rushing over.
Just as he prepared to make his move, he heard that sizzling sound again, twice as loud as before. He jerked his head around to stare with wide, uncomprehending eyes at Ling Yun on the ground.
How was this possible? His body was repairing itself, stitching back together. What kind of body-tempering technique was this? Or was it some sort of avatar? He dared not even think about it as the urge to flee flared up instantly in his mind.
Ling Yun, his body fully restored, opened his eyes, glanced at the man, closed them again, rolled over, and went right back to sleep. The assassin nearly jumped out of his skin, his heart hammering in his chest.
Suddenly, to his even greater horror, he saw his right hand slowly dissolving into points of light. Reacting quickly