The assassin in front of him wore a pure white mask, had a petite figure, held a curved blade in each hand, and wore several layers of coarse linen clothes of varying lengths, giving a sense of depth in her outfit.
Beyond the layers, Xie Tian also felt a sense of melancholy and wandering that is common among lone swordsmen of the worldly Jianghu, especially when the wind chimes on the assassin's two long braids were stirred into sound.
"Dumb to death."
"Dumb to death."
"Dumb to death."
...
Xie Tian didn't answer, and everyone in Xie Yue, including Emperor Luo Jiao, was vying to respond.
They thought it was funny.
But Xie Tian didn't.
At least the essence blood of Emperor Luo Jiao couldn't make the droplet of Rakshasa blood in his heart react.
But the petite Rakshasa King assassin in front of him could.
Beside this, the frantic beating of his heart was also a warning to Xie Tian.
