Just as that beam of light was about to fall, a figure suddenly appeared in front of the Wolf Lord.
Lin Ming!
He stood there with a calm expression, as though he were merely watching an irrelevant farce.
With a casual lift of his hand, the black light vanished like a mud ox sinking into the sea. It did not even stir a ripple, as if Night Owl's all-out strike was no more than a breeze before Lin Ming.
Looking at Lin Ming's back, the Wolf Lord finally let out a sigh of relief. He slumped to the ground, gasping for breath, but a smile appeared on his face.
He knew it. Lin Ming would not abandon him. He had backed the right thigh! His eyes were filled with the relief of surviving a disaster, but even more than that, with an indescribable trust.
Night Owl frowned slightly as he looked at Lin Ming, a trace of gravity flashing through his eyes. This young man had blocked his attack so effortlessly?
He sized Lin Ming up and down, only to discover that he could not see through his cultivation at all. That made him wary. Narrowing his eyes, he asked in a hoarse voice, "Who are you?"
Night Owl hovered in the air, his gaze as sharp as an eagle's, fixed firmly on Lin Ming.
Although he had used only thirty percent of his strength in that strike, it had been enough to severely injure and make any Eleventh Tier expert cough blood.
Yet this young man had simply waved his hand and effortlessly neutralized his attack. Night Owl's pupils constricted slightly, and undisguised shock flashed in his eyes.
He had lived for more than ten thousand years and seen countless prodigies, but he had never witnessed anything so bizarre.