"You... you dare insult me?"
Shaking Light Saint's face flickered with disbelief, staring at Yang Zhen in shock, clearly having never expected that Yang Zhen would dare to curse him outright.
Diao Wutian was so furious that his beard bristled, his formerly serene and Taoist-like demeanor now resembling that of a wild bull that has spotted a red cloth.
However, Yang Zhen paid no heed to Diao Wutian and Shaking Light Saint. Instead, he turned to Mei Wuhua, cupped his fists, and said, "Senior Mei, the young lady cannot endure frights. I entrust her safety to you."
Hearing Yang Zhen's words, an odd look flashed across Mei Wuhua's face. He gave Yang Zhen a deep look, nodded with a smile, and said, "Kid, I'm starting to like you a bit. I hope you survive."
Survive? What a joke. Even if Yang Zhen somehow managed to strike down Shaking Light Saint with a single sword, his chances of survival were slimmer than slim.
