As the demon blade crudely pierced in, Nisha Creek's whole body shuddered, revealing herself from the invisible state. She grasped the hilt of the Demon Blade Thirsty Blood with both hands, trying to pull it out.
Unfortunately.
In just a mere five seconds, her strength rapidly dissipated. Her hands slipped off the hilt of the demon blade, powerless and drooping, and the light in her eyes faded away.
Only then did Li Zheng properly take a look at Nisha Creek.
She was just an extremely ordinary-looking girl, about 1.6 meters tall, wearing a white T-shirt and a pair of jeans washed to a faded white.
With long, black, beautiful hair, which in the recent battle, was chopped into a mess by swords and blades.
On her slightly frail body, several bone-deep scars were hideously terrifying, the most fatal wound being the heart impaled by the Demon Blade Thirsty Blood.
For some reason, looking at the deceased Nisha Creek, Li Zheng felt a rare surge of reluctance in his heart.
