"No… no… no…" Kai screamed as he forcefully shoved himself from the heap of the ancient bamboo cluster.
His breaths came in gags, as the sharp, broken parts of the bamboo screeched across his waist, arms, and face as he dashed forward, paddling his arms in the air.
The more he moved past a broken bamboo, the more the world narrowed in his vision, forcing him to crumple on the ground.
But no matter how hard he—his body—slammed on the ground, he jolted up with brute force.
Reaching seven meters away from where Clara had knelt, he saw a wide smile tear on Wang's face as he tightened his grip on the sword's handle.
The more the sword moved down, the more Kai's vision tinted. And the moment he closed in, a freezing cold wind snaked through his spine, as a slashing sound echoed.
In that moment, the movements of the bamboo, the grins, the air, and the leaves spinning at his front all turned red as blood from the chopped and wailing head spun toward his direction.
