Jiang Shouzhong squatted down, looking at the woman whose face was swollen and bleeding, and said indifferently, "If Er Liang really misjudged and misunderstood your lover, I wouldn't say anything, after all, the fault lies with us. But now that the truth is out and you're still being foolish, that's your own fault."
Long Yuanyuan's body trembled slightly, her face filled with fear and hatred.
Others might not feel it deeply, but Long Yuanyuan, who had been struck, could keenly sense the strength in that slap; it clearly contained mysterious energy and must be from a minor Xuan master.
Her opponent's strength, she estimated, was almost equivalent to her own father's.
Thinking that she had foolishly conflicted with a grandmaster, Long Yuanyuan vaguely regretted it.
It's true that being overbearing as a woman is not wrong, but as a cultivator, she was most aware of the distinctions in realm and strength. Of course, if her father were here, she definitely wouldn't bow down.
