A figure wrapped in golden flames ascended like an anti-gravity meteor, moving against the current.
Ghost Scythe's pupils contracted sharply, leaving him no time to execute any tactical evasive maneuvers.
Fang Cheng's large hands had already gripped both his ankles tightly.
The sensation was like being bitten by a searing branding iron or hydraulic metal clamp.
White smoke sizzled, the power at the fingertips penetrating straight to the bone.
If not for his legs being encased in clay, the flesh might have instantly burned and exploded.
Under this terrifying force, Ghost Scythe's body was dragged downward sharply, nearly causing him to fall from the sky.
But, being a battle-hardened S-Class power user, his shock only lasted a moment.
Immediately, his face filled with rage as he shouted harshly:
"Get off me!"
The blood-red vertical eye on his forehead instantly emitted a red glow.
