"Splash~"
Zeng Anmin climbed ashore from the water, the droplets on his clothes falling in streams, pattering onto the ground.
He did not deliberately conceal himself.
His feet made a "rustle, rustle" sound against the earth.
"Who?!"
Prince Jiang's burly body suddenly turned around.
Those ice-cold eyes swept beneath the moonlight like an eagle watching and a wolf glancing back.
His voice was exceptionally deep, passing through layer after layer of leaves in the dense forest and stirring half a gust of wind.
Zeng Anmin did not speak. He walked forward step by step, the short axe in his hand drawing a line of cold gleam along the path he had come from.
His tall, straight figure was washed in moonlight, like a Ghost Messenger come to claim a life.
"Tap, tap, tap."
One step, two steps...
At last, he came within less than two zhang of Prince Jiang.
When Prince Jiang saw the exceptionally conspicuous hood on his head, streaks of cold light flashed through his eyes.
He stared fixedly at Zeng Anmin, his voice frigid as he enunciated each word:
"Black. Cat. Martial. Artist?"
"That's right."
Zeng Anmin's hoarse voice rang out. His attention remained locked on Prince Jiang, guarding against him fleeing at any moment.
"I came today to take your dog life."
His voice was indifferent, utterly devoid of emotion.
Carried by the cold wind of the frigid night, it sounded like King Yan himself.
Prince Jiang could not be allowed to escape alive from his hands.
"An Eighth-rank Martial Artist, taking this prince's life?"
Prince Jiang seemed to have heard a joke. A cold smile appeared on his frost-covered face.
He looked Zeng Anmin up and down as he gradually approached, showing not the slightest concern.
Now that he had slipped beyond control, he did