Outside the window, a long tongue slipped into the room. After a moment, it withdrew, and a hand—slender but covered in scales—gripped the windowsill. In the darkness, a scrawny body hauled itself inside.
This ogre was nothing like the one Tang Wentian had killed. If that ogre had resembled a crocodile, this one looked like a slippery four-legged lizard.
As soon as it entered the room, it drew the dagger at its waist. It wore no clothes, but a belt hung around its waist, stitched to the dagger's leather sheath. The whole thing hung loose, like a cowboy's holster.
"..."
The ogre silently studied Nameless, its long, narrow slit pupils narrowing slightly.
Suddenly, it darted forward without a sound and drove its dagger at Nameless's throat. Nameless merely turned over in bed, easily avoiding the strike.
The sharp dagger sank into the wooden bedframe with a thunk.
As if performing the Sleeping Arhat Fist in his dreams, Nameless kicked the ogre squarely under the chin. The ogre recoiled in pain, and Nameless used the moment to sit up and draw his sword.
"How is that possible?!"
"He was clearly asleep!"
Horror seized the ogre, and it turned to flee.
As a hunter, it knew its prey well. If a human merely pretended to sleep, neither heartbeat nor breathing could fool it.
It was certain Nameless had been asleep just now.
Trusting that judgment, it had put everything into its stab. When the strike missed, it found itself in danger.
It rushed toward the window with only one thought in its head: Run.
But Nameless had anticipated its move. He pulled the dagger from the bedframe and threw it, striking the ogre's left leg. It collapsed to the floor.
By the time it turned around, Nameless was approaching with sword in