Quan Dean's back hunched even more deeply, making him look like a bow. Now he was a bow drawn taut with power, possessing the tyrannical force to destroy everything. His stooped body abruptly straightened, and the eight arrows he had seized reversed direction, shooting back toward the man in black.
The arrowheads tore through the night with piercing shrieks. Friction against the air rapidly heated the speeding metal, and their tips began to glow red.
The man in black, who had already begun his advance, had to stop. Reaching back, he drew his saber and used it to block the eight arrows hurtling toward him. Amid a continuous metallic clatter, he was forced to retreat again and again to dissipate their tremendous force. Unable to withstand the repeated collisions, the blade broke into two with a crack. The last arrow broke through the defensive net woven by his saber and flew straight for his throat.
The man in black bent backward, folding himself almost flat against the ground, and narrowly evaded that fatal arrow.
Quan Dean's gray-white brows relaxed. The red sandalwood bracelet on his wrist slipped into his palm, and his sharp nails sliced through the red cord like blades. He pinched a prayer bead between the fingers of his right hand and shot it out with a pop.
The man in black had escaped the eight soul-hunting arrows, but he could no longer evade this single prayer bead. It struck his lower leg, leaving him no room to dodge; he could only take the blow head-on. His right shin felt as though it had been struck by a heavy hammer. Pain spread along with the distinct sound of shattering bone. He stumbled and fell heavily into the dust that had yet to settle.
Without warning, Quan Dean twisted