The masked man was taken aback. He clearly hadn't expected Ye Chutang to say something like that at a time like this.
Then he sneered, "It's not important. You're not walking out of this alley today, anyway."
He could already tell that although Ye Chutang's breathing was light, she showed no signs of possessing Inner Strength.
'Practicing martial arts? What a joke.'
He'd been far too cautious. No matter how famous Ye Chutang had become, she was, in the end, just a woman.
Even her father, Ye Zheng, was only a civil servant. What skills could he possibly have taught Ye Chutang?
As he spoke, he drew the sword from his waist, revealing its cold, sharp edge!
Ye Chutang's gaze swept over the blade, and she raised a delicate eyebrow.
"You seem quite confident in yourself, sir?"
To the man, her tone sounded utterly dismissive.
