The black umbrella that had fallen beside Li Ang inexplicably trembled.
The rampaging demon suddenly paused. A thin line of blood inexplicably appeared on its thick, short neck.
HISS—
Blood sprayed from Zou Zhengze's neck as if it were free, staining the walls on both sides bright red.
The demon stopped in its tracks, reached up to its neck, and scratched a few times, tearing off half a strand of hair.
Half a strand of black, long, and sharp hair.
This woman's hair strand was positioned high up in the corridor. As Zou Zhengze charged forward, he had been neatly sliced across the neck by the hair.
If the demon's body hadn't been so sturdy, or if the hair's resilience had been slightly stronger, Zou Zhengze might have been beheaded by his own forward momentum.
But there were no ifs.
SWISH.
