Yi Chen felt so disgusted that he could say disgust flung open its door for him—he was utterly nauseated. Jian Xianzi surely shared the same sentiment.
She felt like her opponent was shielded behind a turtle shell, with no way for her to get in a bite.
The Spirit Sword could only orbit around the area, unleashing streaks of Sword Qi, not daring to approach within ten zhang (approximately 33 meters / 108 feet) of Yi Chen.
Because that towering Daoist truly dared to trade a harsh blow to damage his beloved Spirit Sword's blade.
Hearing Yi Chen's angry rebuke, Jian Xianzi also felt her rage burning.
"Dao brother, you're full of hot air!"
"Then come chase me!"
"You can talk after you've touched even the hem of my robe," Jian Xianzi chastised sharply.
At that moment, she had a strand of long hair caught between her biting lips as she gasped for breath, her face flushed red.
