But the surge of spiritual power was like punching cotton, instantly dissolving on an invisible shield.
Zong Yan remained unchanged in posture, indifferently watching Zong Fang's angry attacks.
Zong Fang, as if venting, directed all his spiritual power at him, but failed to cause the slightest ripple. After exhausting his spiritual power, he entered a short period of cool-down and collapsed onto the ground, drained of strength.
He propped himself up with his hands, his Silver Eyes filled with unwillingness. Zong Fang gritted his teeth, veins on his forehead and neck bulging, and he looked up, staring at the man seated above him with intensity. That feeling of being powerless to resist from his childhood, swept over him once more after so many years.
"She is not just any random female; she is my mate, she is my life."
A tear fell straight down as he bowed his head, dissolving into the carpet.
