TAP, TAP.
Two cultivators, one tall and one short, passed through the hole in the wall and entered the room. Expressionless, they fixated on the pitch-black figure in the corner and the diminutive assassin he was shielding behind him.
"Who are you?" the tall Cultivator asked in a cold voice, his Flying Sword hovering in midair, its tip gently undulating rhythmically, like a venomous snake flicking its tongue.
"Criminal Nightmare, Evil's Nemesis, Justice Messenger, Midnight Ghost..." From within the pitch-black figure, a muddled and hoarse voice, unlike any human's, spoke. "You can also call me Bettman..."
Before his voice faded, the Ink Silk Armor sprang into action.
His feet stomped the floor, leaving deep imprints in the wooden boards, as the seemingly cumbersome figure shot out like an arrow, heading straight for Li Shenbin in the corner.
