Su Feng Hua, noticing something odd in Cang Qianlang’s expression, stepped forward half a step, “Be careful, don’t fall into his trap.”
Cang Qianlang waved his hand lightly, his face grim, “It’s fine; these points aren’t critical.” Following Jun Ye’an’s instructions, he slowly channeled his inner strength upwards. Suddenly, his left leg felt numb and heavy as if weighed down by a thousand pounds. Jun Ye’an, hands clasped behind his back, smiled faintly, “How does it feel?”
Cang Qianlang’s face turned dark, and without a word, he lashed out with his soft whip, aiming straight for Jun Ye’an’s chest. Yet Jun Ye’an stood his ground, not dodging or evading: “Don’t you want to know how to resolve it?”
As the whip was about to strike Jun Ye’an’s chest, Chu Xia’s heart pounded wildly. Cang Qianlang slightly relaxed his grip, solemnly asking, “Are you willing to tell?”
Jun Ye’an only smiled, not speaking. At this moment, with the fierce wind from the whip, his black hair was disheveled, yet his expression showed no trace of panic, a smile lingering at the corner of his mouth, seemingly unconcerned about the life-and-death situation at hand.
