"Sir, have you crossed hands with Qu Muzhi before?" Golden Snake's expression showed shock.
Yang Xiao leaned back in his chair, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled, his entire demeanor instantly becoming much more profound, turning into something that both Golden Snake and the Qipao woman could not comprehend:
"That was several years ago, amidst a heavy snowfall in the north."
The Golden Snake Qipao Woman was momentarily lost in a trance, but they both conjured up a similar image in their minds: snowflakes drifting from the sky, the ground a sheet of white, with Yang Xiao and Qu Muzhi standing on the snowy ground, ten meters apart. Even as the falling snow buried their ankles, neither made a move; for when masters contend, a hair's breadth can lead to a thousand li of error. Both were waiting for the perfect opportunity to determine the outcome with a single move.
