The Flying Blade suddenly retracted, forming a rapier once again in Baihua's hand. The extraordinarily beautiful youth brandished his sword lightly backwards, flicking a bead of blood onto the ground, then he finally lifted his head to size up Fang Hong, a mildly surprised glint flashing through his silver-hued eyes.
But he asked nothing; instead, he turned around and headed straight for the top of the pyramid. Fang Hong looked around; not far away, members of the Jiefulite Red Cloak Team were closing in from all directions, their battle cries thunderous. Although the balance of the battlefield had subtly tipped, it meant little for their current predicament atop the pyramid.
"Wait," he snapped his arm armor into place and called out to the man: "Where are you going?"
"It's none of your business," came Baihua's cold voice from ahead.
