658 This Is How He Cultivated An Appreciation For Aesthetics

Puppeteer twisted around, and his arms fell to his side, revealing the large gaping wound that crawled from his chest to his abdomen. With each moment, more and more of Puppeteer's condition flashed across Maxin's eyes: his skin, pale as snow; the wound, bleeding. Then, without turning his head, he waved his hand and sent something unseen that slashed through the air. It went straight for Maxin, hit him in the nose, and pushed him back into the sea. 

Only then did Puppeteer turn to face Maxin, a cold smile dancing around his lips. 

"Did you think that you would stand a chance against me because I was injured? Please don't make me laugh." 

"What the hell are you doing?" Maxin struggled in the water, his voice contorted with pain. Blood gushed down his face. "Are you crazy? Look behind! Look behind!"

"There is no one behind me," Puppeteer raised an eyebrow slowly.