On a rooftop of a building more than twenty stories high.
Xue Jing held Zong Shichan and set her on the ground upright, feet first, then glanced at the steel cables binding her hands and feet.
His right hand formed a palm knife, and as Power circulated, a Dragon's Chant sounded, with pale golden Extremely Rigid Dragon Qi wrapping around his palm, slashing towards the little girl.
"Clang—"
The steel cables binding her limbs promptly snapped simultaneously.
"Are you all right?"
Seeing the little girl looking dazed as if her soul had departed, Xue Jing asked with concern.
He reached out and touched her head.
This child had been staring at him as if her eyes were glued to him since a moment ago.
It seemed she was scared silly.
Thinking it over, Xue Jing lightly used his spiritual power, gently tapping her forehead with his finger.
