"Holy Master?"
Upon hearing the words 'Holy Master,' Zain Ellsworth immediately became vigilant.
Elaenor Wood and the Holy Master had just fought a fierce battle at Shadow Gate.
That fight carried a sense of taking advantage of someone's peril.
Both parties were well aware that this was a game where someone had to die.
The one to survive could only be one person.
Now, the Holy Master sent someone for a reception?
A weasel paying a New Year's visit to a chicken—definitely up to no good!
However, these people in front of him seemed just like ordinary folks.
They probably couldn't even touch the hem of their masters' garments.
"We don't know the Holy Master!"
As he spoke, a white powder formed in the palm of Zain Ellsworth's right hand.
With just one slap, these people in front of him would drop dead on the spot.
"No harm!"
Slap!
Just as he was prepared to strike, Elaenor Wood snapped his folding fan shut, pressing it against Zain Ellsworth's wrist.
