[Host, on your left!]
The system's metallic warning shrieked directly inside his consciousness with the force of an alarm bell.
Lin Che didn't hesitate for even a microsecond.
Relying on sheer, instinct-driven muscle memory and trust with the system, he threw his entire upper body violently to the right, contorting his torso at a sickening, unnatural angle.
*SWIISH—!*
A whisper of cold brushed past his cheek, severing a few strands of his hair before the air itself fractured where his head had been standing an instant prior.
Shen Haoran materialized out of thin air behind him as if he had always belonged to the shadows, his face completely unbothered, his posture as pristine and majestic as a celestial deity stepping through a peaceful garden.
Then, without a single word of mockery or warning, Haoran thrust his right hand forward, driving the translucent blade forged from pure, radiant sword intent straight toward Lin Che's heart.
