"How is this possible." Nightmare kept a straight face, showing no astonishment, but his heart was deeply shocked. After many years of experiences, he had seen it all—those with Vajra indestructibility, those impenetrable by knives and spears, those with iron bones and copper skin, but he had never seen anyone completely heal their wounds in such a short amount of time.
"Such fast healing speed." Nightmare muttered to himself.
"It's not healing, it's regeneration." Refining Mo sneered, lifting up the wound that had just been stabbed, seemingly flaunting it. The skin was pristine and soft, mismatched with his forty-something-year-old face, as if a baby's skin had been Photoshopped onto his body.
"Hmph, come again, it's been three moves already." Nightmare's eyes were sharp, and his hands clenched his halberd, always ready to defend.
