Steady as a rock.
The shadow lunged at Yi Lin; to be honest, Bol felt a sense of relief.
This was originally a fifty-fifty gamble.
But the opponent's luck didn't seem to be on their side.
Even God did not favor that man.
"It's over."
Bol's knife thrust into Nikola Tesla's neck.
But suddenly,
Bol's icy expression shifted faintly.
Her blade, clearly aiming for the opponent's neck.
She knew this move all too well.
That strike would have torn through their carotid artery and trachea in one clean motion.
She would even have had time to follow up with another slash, severing the head entirely to take it as a trophy.
Yet somehow,
Her knife, as it grazed the surface of his body, refused to go any deeper.
It wouldn't budge.
As if the blade itself was unwilling to move.
No matter how hard she tried, it wouldn't pierce through.
"The knife is faulty!"
Bol's thoughts raced; her fingers tightened, then abruptly relaxed, letting go. The knife floated inexplicably mid-air.
