The old Taoist had originally not taken this woman seriously, but after two rounds, he was deeply shocked.
This woman's movements were peculiar, her tactics both hard and soft; he could not find any fault in her technique.
The old Taoist was struck on the spine by her wooden stick, falling awkwardly onto the ground.
The next moment, the stick was pressing against his neck, the other end held by the young lady, her beautiful and cold profile illuminated by the chilled moon.
"Who exactly are you?" the old Taoist demanded, his fingers secretly pinching a talisman behind his back, energizing it with his inner power.
