SPLASH!
Zeng Anmin climbed onto the riverbank from the water. Drops of water trailed from his clothes, dripping to the ground. He made no effort to control it, his footsteps producing a soft RUSTLE against the dirt.
"Who's there?!"
Ahead of him, King Jiang's robust figure whipped around. Under the moonlight, his icy eyes swept the area with the predatory intensity of an eagle or a wolf. His deep, resonant voice pierced through the dense leaves of the forest, stirring up a faint gust of wind.
Zeng Anmin didn't speak. He walked forward step by step, the Short Axe in his hand drawing a continuous line of cold glints along his path. Bathed in the moonlight, his tall, straight silhouette looked like a Ghost Messenger coming to claim a soul.
TAP, TAP, TAP.
One step, two steps... Finally, he stopped less than twenty feet away from King Jiang.
