"Screech!"
Suddenly, an indiscernible object fell from a tree, bringing with it a streak of cold light as it plummeted toward the travelers below.
If it were to hit its mark, it would be certain death, a head impaled by a blade.
However, it had targeted the wrong person.
Song Yin merely glanced upward and didn't even need to lift a hand. Beside him, Wang Qi Zheng sported a ferocious smile. He didn't even use his axe. With a powerful thrust of his leg, akin to a whip, he pierced right through the falling object, flinging it to the ground with a flick of his foot.
The thing was humanoid, covered in green skin, still clutching a short blade in its hand. Upon closer inspection, its features were all out of place, and the knife seemed fused with its palm.
"What is this?" Wang Qi Zheng peered curiously.
It did not quite look like a ghost, nor did it resemble a monster.