A loud cry brought Xuanxu back to his senses.
He subconsciously dodged to the side, and his shoulder was held down by the word "者" and pulled backwards.
A strong fishy smell hit me instantly.
Several blood arrows shot out rapidly, seemingly carrying a corrosive malice, and swept past, shattering the hair crown on Zhe's head as he dodged. A strand of long hair was burnt and broken as if it was splashed with sulfuric acid, and the rest of the hair was scattered, covering Zhe's back.
"You're not a ghost?" Xuanxu's sleeve was half burned, and he looked at the word "zhe" in surprise.
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