Mo Huajian and the maid, Xiaoyu, stared blankly at Fang Yu on the battlefield, puzzled as to why he was taking off his clothes.
The two of them hadn't spoken for a long time.
They were both cultivators... but after this night, their energy and will were exhausted beyond tolerance.
Fortunately, Daoist Saint Mo Huajian and Xiaoyu had far higher cultivation levels than others, so they didn't feel tired, only worried and confused.
"Miss, is he really courting death?" Xiaoyu kept pinching her fingers, her palms sweaty.
Mo Huajian glanced at her and said:
"Weren't you the one who always looked down on him?"
"Miss... are you teasing me again? I'm just helping you judge men!"
"Speaking nonsense again..."
"I'm not talking nonsense... I just think... although this guy is a bit annoying, at least he counts as a man." Xiaoyu said.
"Hmm? If Xiaoyu's opinion of someone changes, it means he must have some skills. Tell me, why do you think this way?" Mo Huajian asked intently.
