However, ultimately, he was outnumbered. Two more black-clad men flew in from outside the street, causing the young man, who thought he had a sure win, to instantly lose his footing.
In just a short moment, he had already taken a cut on his shoulder, with blood flowing down his arm. Soon, half his body was drenched in blood.
He gritted his teeth without uttering a word, but he couldn't hide the smell of blood.
"Song Qing, are you hurt?"
The voice from inside the carriage remained gentle but carried a hint of worry this time.
"Young master, I'm fine, just a small injury!"
The young man kicked one of the black-clad men flying away, gasping as he replied.
Shen Qinglan always understood the danger of watching from the sidelines, yet seeing a high-level duel for the first time, she still took a risk to watch from the corner.
That young man was also quite stubborn, clearly seriously injured, yet still gripping the long sword in his hand to combat the black-clad men.
