Yang Jian watched as Leuk Qingqing reached out and grabbed the Firewood Knife, wearing a confident look, which he found laughable.
"You are truly foolish to the extreme, relying on the qipao to block my Coffin Nail, and using gloves to grasp my Firewood Knife. Do you think that with these two things, you can persist against me without being killed? If it were just like this, today you can head to your grave."
Leuk Qingqing said nothing, staring at Yang Jian, her hands gripping the Firewood Knife tightly, unwilling to let go.
Her strength was immense, not something a normal woman should possess; if an ordinary person were caught in her grasp, their bones would probably be crushed.
But Yang Jian was not weak either.
It was as if, battling till now, even their strength was being utilized.
Seemingly reaching a point of exhaustion.
