"Lower your hand."
Pei Yuhang's voice was as placid as still water, betraying no hint of anger, yet it seemed to carry an invisible suppression that bore down on Ji Xichan's mind.
Ji Xichan swallowed hard. Though panic fluttered in her heart, she straightened her back and stubbornly met the White-clothed Sword Immortal's gaze.
Her eyes held a trace of indignation and grievance, her lips trembling slightly as if she wanted to say something but forced the words back down.
"Pei Yuhang, your disciple struck me first!"
She raised a hand to her own swollen cheek, where a clear handprint stood out starkly against her fair skin.
Her voice was choked with emotion, but she fought to keep her tears from falling.
"What, you'll let Qing Yueqiu attack me, but you won't let me fight back?!"
Ji Xichan's voice was thick with a sense of being wronged. This was no act; she had truly never suffered such a great humiliation!
