"You bet on me, or against me, Brother Shiru?" Ji'an shot back, her trademark arrogant smirk firmly back in place now that her Qi was restored.
"Always on you, my dear friend. Though I demand a discount on my next meal for the emotional distress you've caused me."
Thud.
On Ji'an's other side, Lu Jianheng, the Sword Lord, hit the ground. He didn't say a word at first.
He stood up straight, crossing his arms aggressively over his chest, his face twisted into a fierce, grumpy scowl.
He glared at the sky, glared at the ground, and finally glared at Ji'an.
"Foolish," Lu Jianheng barked, his voice loud and accusatory. "Reckless and foolish! Throwing yourself at a Yin-Demon stronghold without proper backup? Are you trying to die early? Do you think your spatula is a divine artifact?!"
"It did the job, didn't it?" Ji'an retorted, rolling her eyes.
