When Zihao fixed his eyes—brimming with murderous intent—on Qingyi, he expected to see at least a slight flinch.
After all, the difference in cultivation between the two was huge.
To his surprise, Qingyi didn't even blink.
A gentle smile blossomed on the young dragon's lips as he met Zihao's glare.
"Do you want something from me, Young Master Zihao? I understand that you're admiring my beauty, but I'm not interested in that sort of thing. What I have between my legs is reserved only for my wives."
The words had barely left Qingyi's mouth when the chubby man beside him burst into laughter. Hundreds of others followed, the sound rolling through the arena in waves.
"Y-you…" Zihao's pale face flushed crimson in an instant, his eyes flashing with pure fury.
He forced his heart to calm down, then roared in a voice like thunder.
