"No, never! Over my dead body!" shouted Zhao Lusi, her sharp outburst surprising everyone in the immediate vicinity.
Within the competitive hierarchy of the Heaven Dao Sect, servant disciples and bound slaves fighting to the death in place of their high-born masters was nothing new. In fact, such brutal proxy matches transpired at least once a month to settle the petty grievances of the elite.
"It is fine. This human slave is no match for me," Kai Syaoran told the worried Zhao Lusi, his voice steady and grounding.
Hearing his calm assertion, she gradually regained her senses and realized that she had likely overreacted out of sheer panic. Kai was already a late Xiantian cultivator, and even though Young Master Wei's personal slave possessed a higher cultivation base, the disparity between them was a single minor realm—a gap that was far from insurmountable.
Clap, clap, clap.
