As a result, Zhou Ping'an deliberately exposed a flaw, solely to lure his opponent into attacking him up close, presenting himself defenselessly to dispel any thoughts of escape the other might have.
Little Jiu'er was a very curious child, keen on questioning to the utmost, "Then now, seeing that he can't defeat Brother Ping'an, wouldn't he still run away?"
"He can't run. Look at him, doesn't his face look awful?"
"Yes, just like a dead man."
Little Jiu'er, now also emboldened by the support, was no longer afraid.
Staring with her big, round eyes, she looked towards the white-haired old man.
Then, to her surprise, she found that his complexion was ashen, tinged with a grayish hue, his lips pale and bloodless, somewhat resembling a corpse in a coffin.
"The Yanwang Needle!"
The white-haired old man realized something was wrong at this moment.
Instantly, he felt chest tightness and shortness of breath, and his head was dizzy.
