The shadow of the Broken Swordman dispersed, vanishing without a trace.
The air, once stagnant, seemed to flow again as Chen Yi let out a deep breath.
Come back to kill me in three years?
Chen Yi's eyes glinted coldly.
Damn it, when the time comes, I'll just…
As Chen Yi turned his head, he caught sight of Miss Donggong's face, radiant as peach blossoms, full of worry as she looked at him.
Fight it out with your disciple!
Produce three pairs of chopsticks and see if you can still kill.
"Are you all right?"
Miss Donggong asked softly, completely oblivious to the change in Chen Yi's eyes.
Chen Yi replied mildly, "I'm fine, of course."
He understood this silly girl—simple, naïve, and a bit too clever for her own good. Now, as Broken Swordman's disciple, she had already been steeped in chivalrous spirit; rushing to help when faced with injustice was only natural.
