This soft chirp drew the attention of the crowd.
This soft chirp filled Zhao Long with fear.
A glint of cold light arrived first, followed swiftly by a spear thrust as fearsome as a dragon.
Zhao Long watched in terror as the silver point of light in his eyes grew larger, his mind going blank. Clearly, this hefty commander who tipped the scales at over two hundred pounds had not expected such a turn of events, nor had he anticipated that this woman would dare to assassinate him in public like a madwoman.
Ding!
The resonant sound of metal clashing rang out as Han Shizhong, wielding an Iron Fan, forcefully pressed down on the Silver Spear, his face, covered with a thick beard, now bore an inscrutable smile.
"Young master is as precious as flowers and jades, Miss, you must not get angry."
Raising his head, Han Shizhong looked at the woman in white, continuously applying force with the Iron Fan in his hand.
