Qingyi stood up, sliding Rou'er off his lap and gently setting her down on the seat beside him before lifting his gaze to the arena.
With a light push off the ground, his figure cut through the air like a floating feather, landing softly on the stone platform without making a single sound.
On the opposite side, another figure descended onto the arena—a young man with long white hair that fell to his waist, an elegant sword fastened at his hip, and handsome features, though still far inferior to Qingyi's.
It was Feng Wuji.
Unlike Qingyi, who maintained a gentle smile and serene expression, Feng Wuji looked as if he might suffer a heart attack at any moment.
His teeth were clenched tight, veins bulged from his neck, and he was practically drooling with rage and excitement.
Finally, he would wash away his shame and make that filthy dragon pay dearly for daring to set his eyes on his woman!
