"Ugh..."
Controlled by Xi Guang, Zhao Yao stood frozen, his mouth slightly agape and his pupils trembling violently.
Golden stripes flickered in and out of existence across his face.
As the Young Man's hand sank into his forehead, the golden stripes on Zhao Yao's face quickly faded away, as if suppressed by some invisible force.
SHLICK!
The next moment.
The white-robed Young Man pulled his hand out. The movement was clean and sharp, as effortless as drawing a hand from water.
Yet, Zhao Yao's forehead was left without a single wound, not even a drop of blood. It was as if the entire thing had been an illusion.
Zhao Yao's body suddenly went rigid. Then, as if all support had vanished, he tilted forward and knelt directly on the ground.
The Young Man paid him no mind.
He looked down at his own palm.
A triangular piece of black metal with gold markings had appeared in his hand. Its surface shimmered with a faint light, trembling slightly as if it were alive.
