Chapter 620: Interception

The world rewound for an instant.

Robin felt everything before her flying backward—the black‑red light pillar retracted, the black‑shadowed figure slipped back behind the corner, the great sword lowered, and the street returned to the uneventful bend.

It was as if someone had hit the rewind button, the frames crawling back so fast she could barely see, leaving her dizzy and nauseous.

By the time she came to, the pink horse had already changed direction, charging toward the outer wall of the nearby building.

"What—?!"

Robin hadn't reacted yet when the pink horse's front hooves were already on the building's outer wall.

It didn't fall, didn't slip, didn't even slow—its four sturdy legs ran up the near‑vertical wall, hooves clacking on the bricks, rubble and dust trickling down from where they stepped.

Its speed was no slower than on flat ground; Robin could only cling tightly to A Xing's waist, watching the ground fall away and the neon tubes below turn into thin bands of light.

The pink horse lunged to the roof's edge, kicked off with its hind legs, and leapt from this building's roof to the slightly lower one opposite.

On landing, the impact shook the whole building, making Robin feel her innards tossed about.

Then she heard a tremendous roar behind her.

The sound came from below, from the bend's direction—black‑red magic exploded at the corner, the shockwave shaking nearby buildings askew, shards of glass and stone flying up then falling like rain.

The street, that bend, the very spot they'd just stood—were swallowed by that magic, leaving only a charred ruin smoking faintly.

Robin lay on the horse's back, gazing at the wreckage, a chill running up her spine.

If she hadn't changed course, if the horse hadn't run up this building—

She couldn't bring herself to think about it.

A Xing didn't look at the wreckage.

She didn't even turn around.

She simply rose from the horse's back, the deep‑crimson flame gun forming again in her palm, its fire brighter than before, the heat wave reaching Robin seated behind her.

She lifted her arm, raised the flame gun to her shoulder, and hurled it forward.

The instant the gun left her hand, its fiery shaft burst open, trailing a straight red line across the night sky like a meteor plummeting straight at the black figure below.

It was so fast Robin saw only a flash of light, then the explosion.

A huge fireball rose at that spot, its shockwave hurling rubble and dust in all directions, the blast ringing her ears and shaking the building.

A Xing didn't look at the fireball, nor at the shattered wreckage it had created.

She merely reined in, took hold of the reins again, and the pink horse had already turned, leaping toward the roof of another building.

Behind her, from the embers of the blaze, a black silhouette burst out of the smoke and dust.

As Robin turned back, she saw just that—the black‑armored woman bursting from the explosion's heart, ash coating her, her armor scorched in places, yet moving with astonishing speed, each step leaving a deep footprint, her black‑red greatsword whipping wildly, each swing unleashing a keen blade‑energy that sliced past the buildings behind them, cleaving the remaining walls and floors in two.

Robin's pupils narrowed slightly.

"Who is that?!"

A Xing gave no reply.

She merely tilted her head slightly, a glint of gold flashing in her eyes beneath the hat's brim before she turned her gaze back to the road ahead.

The pink horse's speed increased, its hooves striking the roof's edge, running along the steel beams, each leap just barely dodging the black blade‑energy chasing them from behind.

Robin gritted her teeth and rose from the horse's back.

Wind rushed into her throat, making her cough, but she didn't pull back; instead she opened her mouth and began to sing.

As the sound welled up from her throat, she herself froze for a moment.

She thought she wouldn't be able to sing, that fear and tension would choke her voice, but the sound came out anyway, as natural as water springing from a source.

It wasn't any of the songs she'd sung before, nor any piece she'd practiced—it was a different melody, lighter, like ripples raised by wind skimming water, like the wingbeats of a flock taking flight at dusk striking the air.

White specks of light blossomed around her, more numerous than before, gathering in the night sky into a flock of glowing birds.

The birds were dove‑shaped, swallow‑sized, their wings transparent as if carved from thin ice, refracting a faint glow against the dim sky.

Those birds flew out from beside Robin, passing through shattered windows, over collapsed walls, surging toward the black silhouette behind her.

The light birds struck the black‑armored woman, exploding in her face into countless tiny points of light that clung to her armor like spiderwebs, slowing her movements for an instant.

Just that instant.

A Xing leaned out from the horse's back and hurled the flame gun again.

This time she didn't aim at the black‑armored woman, but at the load‑bearing wall of the building beneath her feet.

The flame gun arced through the air, piercing the cracked wall with precision, then detonated.

The building began to crumble from its base, stones and tiles pouring down to pile a thick barrier between the black‑armored woman and them.

The black‑armored woman's sword struck the barrier, chips flying, but the debris was too thick—each slash cleared only one layer, with ten more beneath.

Robin watched the receding black figure and let out a breath.

But A Xing did not relax.

She reached up, lifted her top hat, and tossed it casually behind her.

The hat spun in the air, its brim tracing an arc, then suddenly burst, expanding from hat‑size to a fist‑sized light orb that coalesced in mid‑air into a vague humanoid shape, small and round, with something perched on its head.

If San Yue Qi were here, she'd surely point at the light orb and shout, "Clockboy!"

But Robin couldn't make out the shape; she only saw the light orb turn once in the air, then dash toward the black‑armored woman, detonating in a blinding white flash just before impact.

The white light flooded the street, swallowing the black‑armored woman's silhouette whole—even her shadow vanished.

Sometime later the hat was back in A Xing's hand.

She settled it back on her head, the brim pulled low, revealing only a sharp jawline and a few strands of gray hair tossed by the wind.

The white light behind her gradually faded, and the black‑armored woman's silhouette disappeared as well—whether she was buried under the rubble or driven back by the light, no one knew.