The black-clothed youth in the teahouse was, of course, Song Ciwan.
A moment ago, it was she who had flicked a wisp of Qi Force from her fingertip. It shot past the Leather Armor Martial Artist's neck, then pierced through dozens of walls, continuing far, far into the distance.
The act was so sudden and bizarre, so terrifyingly dangerous, that it was nothing short of a blatant villain's deed.
The Leather Armor Martial Artist mustered his courage to demand why Song Ciwan had done such a thing. Song Ciwan merely offered a faint smile, her voice as sharp and cold as cutting gold and shattering jade.
She spoke, "It's true we have no grievance or grudge. However, in this world, anyone who attempts to enter a Spirit Realm Secret Realm—be they Human or demon, or any species at all—will find themselves under my three-foot blade.
You can all try to go. If you don't, then fine. But if you do, let's see whose precious neck is faster than the blade in my hand!
