Chen Xiyuan bent at the waist, tilted her head, a smile on her face as she looked at the short, fat old man before her.
When those words left her mouth, she felt a coolness rise from the bottom of her heart, straight up into her mind.
As if the world before her suddenly gained a different color.
So this is how you all walk the Jiang.
Feng Lushan’s charred skin kept sloughing off; a rank, bloody pus seeped and ran.
His condition was terrible — the explosion a moment ago had almost destroyed the physique he had once taken pride in.
That he hadn’t completely collapsed was only because he forced himself to hold together through grit.
Still, no matter how it was looked at, the girl’s smile made him feel humiliated.
If it were mockery or sneers, he could swallow it.
But he could sense — truly sense — that her smile was sincere, from the heart.
Anger rose in him, a heat he could hardly restrain.
Part of it was also because the air was thick with demonic resentment.
When he had been in a better state he could instinctively isolate and purge that influence, reducing its effect.
Now his body was ruined; the grudges seeped through every crack, pushing him toward a kind of frenzy.
“You little wench — what family are you from… so rude!” Feng Lushan’s voice choked.
White vapor rose from his body as he surged to his feet.