The indifferent voice penetrated the swirling dust, exceptionally clear within the enclosed mountain belly.
At the instant of locking eyes with the calm gaze at close range, Old Zhang was so frightened that his soul flew away, retreating two steps before heavily falling to the ground, disbelief written all over his face.
In front of him, the figure of gold and red that was supposed to have fallen off the bridge onto sharp spikes now stepped through the air, leisurely walking up from the deep valley.
His pace was extremely slow, each step seemingly mocking the pair's poor strategy.
Invisible wind condensed into form beneath his feet, faintly revealing the outline of stairs amidst the flying dust.
Step, another step!
Plop.
Until the gold and red figure's height matched the platform, he gently lifted his right leg, the Battle Armor boot stepping onto the stone platform, creating a soft rustling sound.
