Just as the pseudo-destiny talisman in Feng Wuhen's palm floated half an inch, Gu Qinghuan's Xiuchun Saber had already slashed down with a cold glare.
The blade-wind whipped the candlelight into a violent sway, casting distorted shadows across his face.
"Back off!" Pi Yanlin spoke suddenly, his tone lazy and casual, like a yawn in the afternoon.
Chapter 126