As the battle unfolds, Ye Yinan's mask slowly slips. His false smile turns dark, a clouded expression obscures his handsome features. When Weizhen strikes, Ye Yinan parries, each time with more vigor, more violence than the last.
"You resist me poorly," his voice drips with disapproval. "Did Hengmu fail to raise you well? Perhaps I have overestimated his usefulness."
Li Weizhen staggers on his feet, his body exhausted in ways unknown. Although Yinan had struck him sparsely, each hit was expertly aimed, cutting off the flow between his meridans, making his muscles ache and bones stagger.
He can do nothing but clench his jaw and endure his injuries for he cannot fathom the thought of letting Yinan— of letting Hongyue Wanai get away.
No, he must end this man's insanity. It is his responsibility because he—
Because in this world, Li Weizhen is the last person who truly cares about—
