Knowing how precious time was, Yan Liang didn’t even waste a second before acting. The mask on his face suddenly morphed, the eyes, nose, mouth, eyebrows, and scars turned into strange colors that clashed and darted around, but never breaking out of the constraint of the palette that was the mask.0

At the same time, the space around Yan Liang distorted slightly the way scorching heat from the asphalt street distorted the air on a hot summer day.0

He lifted his hands and parted his four fingers and thumbs, aiming at Lithe Snake and Qing Ling, and Gao Yang and Hong Xiaoxiao. From his perspective, it would seem like the angle between his thumbs and fingers was locking onto the targets gradually.0

Two seconds...0