Zi Wei sized him up, unable to distinguish the person's gender, discern their features, or see any indication of intent. All that could be seen was the figure seated cross-legged on the mahogany couch, resembling a youth in stature.
Concealed beneath the cloak, their upper face exuded a mysterious aura.
"Who are you?" Zi Wei's blade pointed at them.
The dim glint that cascaded with the blade was enough to make ordinary people kneel and beg for mercy in fear.
Yet the assassin with magical eyes was unconcerned, slowly lowering their cloak, their voice eerie, "As the number one assassin of Silver Moon Pavilion, do you fear dreams?"
Killing intent surged in Zi Wei's eyes, but before he could make a move, he was stunned.
He fell, just like that, in an instant.
The magical eyes that belonged to the assassin changed from white to black slowly after Zi Wei fell, in an extremely eerie process.
