Bean-sized, deep-blue raindrops pelted the bridge of Ye Fan's nose, their chill seeping through his skin into his veins. Instinctively, he raised a hand to wipe his face. The moment the rainwater touched his throat, his pupils contracted sharply—the bitter yet sweet taste was identical to the "Drunk Life Fragrance" brewed by Su Qingxue.
"Zhaoyue!" He grabbed Lin Zhaoyue's wrist, his fingertips brushing against the light calluses on her palm as he met her equally tense gaze. Raindrops clung to the tips of the young woman's ears. Her willow-leaf sword was already drawn three inches, its sword qi condensing into a pale cyan canopy overhead. The raindrops striking the sword screen burst into tiny slivers of silver light, sounding remarkably like the plucked tail-end notes of the ice-stringed zither in her music room.
"The... the Underworld River Formation!" The scar-faced man's roar suddenly cracked. His face, previously flushed from circulating his internal energy, turned a sickly grayish-blue. As his ghost-head saber clattered to the ground, bluish-gray spots were spreading across the back of his left hand at a visible rate, and black blood oozed from beneath his fingernails. The remaining men in black had it even worse; a tall, thin fellow was clutching his throat and rolling on the ground, thumb-thick blood blisters swelling along his neck. Another stocky man stood stiffly frozen in place, his eyes bulging, even his Soul-Calling Bell dropped into the dark red corrosive pudd…
Chapter 382