Just as a bloodthirsty glint flared in He Chong's eyes and his saber was about to slash down at Ma Jun's neck—
"Whoosh!"
A shrill, piercing whistle ripped through the air without warning, bursting from a dense thicket behind and to the side.
He Chong was, after all, an expert in the Skin Refining Realm, with quick instincts for danger. The instant he heard the sound, he forcibly checked his downward strike, twisted at the waist, and swept his narrow saber upward in a backhand slash, turning it into a gleaming wheel of light.
"Clang!"
The sharp ring of metal on metal rang out as he barely managed to knock away a black-shafted arrow. Its shaft snapped in two.
But the arrow had come too suddenly, and it was astonishingly fast. Though He Chong had knocked it aside, the sharp edge of its head still grazed his cheekbone as he whipped his face around.
"Shhk!"
A faint sound of flesh splitting. He Chong felt a chill across his left cheek, followed by a searing pain. He reached up and felt warm, sticky blood coating his palm. A gash about an inch long was oozing blood.
"Who is it? Which bastard shot that arrow? Get out here, you son of a bitch!"
He Chong whipped around to face the direction the arrow had come from, shocked and furious. Pain and rage twisted his features, making his scar look even more savage. He roared like a wounded beast.
The sudden ambush threw the situation into chaos.
The lean Qian Jun was just as quick to react. The instant he heard the whistle, he abandoned his pursuit of Ma Jun and hastily retreated half a step, holding his saber before him. His sharp eyes fixed on the direction the arrow had come from,