"Constable, save me!"
Zheng Wang cried out in terror.
A flash of mockery crossed the black-robed figure's eyes.
'Constable?'
'No one can save you.'
'In South City, no one can block my swift saber.'
The black-robed figure thought to himself. He could already picture his Willow Leaf Saber slicing open Zheng Wang's throat, and the corners of his mouth couldn't help but curl up.
Just then, he suddenly felt a chill on his face.
It was raining.
The black-robed figure subconsciously looked up at the sky, a deep sense of unease suddenly rising in his heart.
DING!
At that exact moment, a single drop of rain landed on his Willow Leaf Saber.
This raindrop, as if it weighed a thousand pounds, actually knocked the blade aside, causing it to graze past Zheng Wang's shoulder.
The black-robed figure's pupils contracted sharply, and a look of terror involuntarily appeared on his face.
