C418 Who is watching

At the bottom of the Flying Tiger Ridge, a blurry shadow rapidly dashed up the mountain. His feet did not touch the ground and only lightly tapped on the leaves. No footsteps could be heard, only the rustling of leaves.

Suddenly, the black shadow stopped galloping and stopped under a tree.

The tip of his foot lightly touched the ground as his body moved like a butterfly. With a few jumps