After saying this, he wasted no more words, and the willow branch in his hand began to move.
The drooping willow in spring is originally the softest and most harmless, but in his hands, it danced with a force like a storm.
It wasn't a simple show of strength; there was a grace within that power.
However, if you thought it was soft, you'd be gravely mistaken.
Because the wind stirred by the willow branch brushed several times past Lun Yiyi's face, making her feel as if razor blades were scraping her skin, causing a sharp pain!
Most present were young men incapable of even tying up a chicken, who were used to reciting poetry, never having seen such a scene, so they all held their breath for a moment, watching attentively.
The willow branch in Liu Xinghe's hand spun faster and faster.
Eventually, it formed a green screen, shielding his front.
