Murong Qiao had no desire to talk to Huo Xiuyuan at all.
The two of them, one hot and one cold, formed a comical scene. Laughters could be heard around them, as if they were mocking Huo Xiuyuan.
"I wonder if I have the honor of being Young Miss Murong's teacher." Huo Xiuyuan still had an annoying smile on his face.
He even handed a bow and arrow to Murong Qiao. There was a hint of urgency in his movements, as if he was anxious to prove himself.
Murong Qiao was about to refuse impatiently when he saw a well-defined, long, and familiar hand reach out in front of her and snatch the bow and arrow. He held it in his hand with a strong and unquestionable force.
"You—" Huo Xiuyuan was displeased.
However, when he saw the person who snatched the bow and arrow, his voice became hoarse again.
