"Is that so?"
A woman's light laughter unexpectedly came from beneath the black floral-patterned mask.
The faint sense of familiarity that had just arisen in Ronan's heart quickly dissipated under this strange laughter. The mask on her face, like his, had strong concealing features.
Ronan shook his head, his gaze returning to its indifferent state. He raised his hand, and crimson-tinged ice crystal long spears gathered around him, tracing a blood-red lightning path in the void, rapidly shooting toward the witch of the Ghost Flower Society in front of him.
The latter, with an exceptionally tall figure, retreated two steps, the magic robe on her body spreading like bat wings, and then she quickly merged into a shadow as dark as ink.
Ronan's ancient ice spears plunged into the shadow, as if piercing extremely smooth silk.
