"Not for sale," Zhao Dong said firmly, starting to pull Su Yurou away.
"Kid! It seems you prefer the hard way." Mo Qian stepped forward again to block their path, her beautiful eyes glinting with murderous intent.
"Want to fight?" A flicker of disdain crossed Zhao Dong's eyes.
"You're asking for it!" Mo Qian shouted, whipping a kick straight at Zhao Dong's face.
Her movements were clean and precise, erupting with the terrifying power of a first-level Great Grandmaster! For a woman in her twenties, this level of cultivation was indeed formidable. It was no wonder she acted with such arrogance.
But in Zhao Dong's eyes, a first-level Great Grandmaster was pathetically weak.
He simply raised a hand and effortlessly caught Mo Qian's ankle. Her black leather boot stopped dead in its tracks, and Mo Qian instantly panicked.
"Let go of me! Let me go!"
"I can let you go, but you have to promise not to attack again," Zhao Dong said, not wanting to bicker with her.
