"Blood-Robed Lady, is it? Is this kept toy of yours supposed to scare me? You want the Pure Yang Essence."
The ancestor of the Taixuan Sect spoke with an icy tone, his black scorpion frantically tearing at the Blood-Luò Umbrella.
"So what if he is?" the Blood-Robed Lady retorted coldly. Yet, deep down, a sense of relief washed over her—a realization that startled her.
Chapter 82