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"Hah… Easier than I expected."
Standing at the center of a massive crater, Wang Yu flexed his fingers. The wounds across his body had already knitted shut. The only thing truly depleted was his bloodpool, but that hardly mattered now.
"Well, that was an awe-inspiring fight. Terrifying, even. Mind if we talk a bit?"
He turned toward the voice. On a low hill two or three kilometers away stood a white-haired youth in a dark gray robe, smiling faintly down at him.
"You want to talk about your so-called ‘utopia,' I assume?"
Wang Yu tossed something up in his hand lazily. As he blasted Ethan Harris into dust with a single punch, he'd caught a small object that had tumbled from the man's remains—a delicate thing, like the hand of a clock or an instrument gauge.
This curio, the Perfect Pointer, could spare its bearer from a fatal blow, restoring all injuries sustained within the last ten minutes. Unfortunately, like the Mirror...
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