Song Qidong fled frantically, but the killing intent at his back only grew more piercing. Despair flooded his heart.
Suddenly, he saw a young woman in a red leather jacket standing under a tree ahead. She was trimming her nails with a jet-black short blade. Another identical short blade, this one vermilion, hung at her waist.
Song Qidong's face lit up with the joy of someone snatched from the jaws of death. A certain Apostle's peculiar tastes flashed through his mind, and in an instant, his feet faltered, and he dropped into a sliding kneel.
"Greetings, Rose Apostle..."
The immense momentum from a Martial Artist's sprint, even with both knees braking, still carved a trail over twenty meters long on the rugged ground.
Song Qidong slammed his forehead into the ground, smashing a bowl-sized crater into the hard-packed earth. He was truly overjoyed; he kowtowed with all his heart.
