Adam glared at Yann's frozen statue.
Even though Leviathan smuggled them inside the Western archipelago, his worry over Misha and their uncertain journey left no time for games—especially not from this deceiving serpent who pretended to be helpless. Not after two dao ancestors had nearly killed him.
He raised one finger, his voice a scalding snarl. "One second. That's all the time you have left before I make your death real."
Before his finger could curl, ice shattered in glistening shards, revealing Yann's perfectly trimmed moustache and unblemished coat. Aside from a shudder from his threat, Yann bore no traces from the Celestial Frost Matriarch's strike, as if the frost had merely trapped him but couldn't infiltrate his skin. How did this work? Not a spell—Leviathan had called it a bloodline ability.
