"No!"
As Tang Nazhi's mournful screams echoed in the mountain forest, Shen Yanxiao vented all her indignation.
It was a memorable battle. It was not until dark that Tang Nazhi dragged his exhausted body and mind back to the inn with Shen Yanxiao on his back.
There were no scars on Tang Nazhi's body, except for a bright red mark that ran directly across his handsome face.
"You're too much. You didn't hit my body, but just slapped my face. How much hatred do you have for me?" Tang Nazhi cried bitterly about his miserable fate.
No matter how low the lethality of her silver whip was, it would still hurt when slapped on the face, okay?!
Tang Nazhi's night was destined to be a mixture of sadness and joy. He was happy that he had obtained a powerful sacred tool, and sad that he had been temporarily disfigured by an unscrupulous thief!
