Wu Shu's expression froze.
In an instant, cold sweat broke out across his back. His eyes widened, and he turned sharply toward the entrance of the pavilion.
But there was no one there.
Only the moonlight on the polished floor. Only the quiet rustle of leaves.
Then—another ripple, this time behind him.
Before he could react, a shadow stepped out from nothingness.
A man stood there, dressed in plain black robes, his hands tucked calmly behind his back. His features were unremarkable—sharp, but not overly so—and his expression wore the faintest trace of a smile.
But his eyes…
Those eyes glinted with cruel amusement, like a cat toying with a dying mouse.
"Don't bother trying to run again," the black-robed figure smirked. "You barely survived the first time."
Wu Shu's eyes remained fixed on the man in black for several long breaths.
