What to do?
Bet!
With thirty-five years of cultivation, Feng Ying'Er was by no means indecisive.
She immediately flipped her body and dove downward, as a streak of lightning roared past her forehead.
Bet correctly!
Covered in goosebumps, Feng Ying'Er's expression lit up with joy.
But soon after, she suddenly widened her eyes in shock!
A face with delicate features, paired with eyes on the verge of popping out.
So out of place!
She seemed to freeze, slowly turning her head, her hair a chaotic mess in the wind.
A face like a deep, sunken pool pressing close behind her!
Feng Ying'Er had grossly underestimated Meng Chuan's body technique speed.
Splurt!
Blood sprayed three meters far in the night, a bloody peony blossoming on her back.
With a forceful twist, Meng Chuan slowly withdrew the fist blade embedded in her spine!
Feng Ying'Er felt all over cold and wet, deeply regretting taking on Li Xiao's task.
Her spine shattered, she was now nothing but a mud pile.
