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Ghost Horse had teleported above Gao Yang’s head this time. Gao Yang leapt forward forcefully, and Ghost Horse’s crossed karambits pierced into the ground, missing their mark.
Pew, pew, pew.
Gao Yang’s three shots missed as expected. Ghost Horse had already teleported away.
Where is he? Where?
Swish!
From his right came a faint current. Gao Yang didn’t have the time to confirm if it was Ghost Horse, and he dodged out of the way. Only when he rolled and landed did he see from the corner of his eye that it wasn’t Ghost Horse, but a wilted potted plant.
It was a distraction!
When he realized the fact, it was already too late. Overwhelming killing intent swept toward him from his side as a blade slashed at the back of his ear, making a quiet swoosh.
Is this the power of a top assassin?!
The gap between Ghost Horse and he, a mix of fighter and spellcaster who hadn’t yet fully developed,...
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