Chen Ping'an subtly twisted the ground beneath his left and right toes in turn, as if he were still adjusting to legs that had grown lighter.
He noticed that Ma Kuxuan had picked up five pebbles in total—four in his left hand and one in his right.
Looking utterly composed, Ma Kuxuan turned toward the foreign girl whose saber sheath and sword sheath were both empty and smiled. "We agreed that this is a one-on-one fight between Chen Ping'an and me. According to the stories my grandmother told me when I was little, in those historical novels, when two great generals faced off before the armies, whoever called for help was no hero. If one could slay the enemy general in battle, the army's morale would soar, and the battle would be won..."
Ning Yao found the sight of Ma Kuxuan irritating. She had never seen anyone so begging to be beaten. Song Jixin from Mud Bottle Alley was also deeply calculating and fond of showing off bookish phrases, putting on the airs of a Little Master all day long, but at least he looked like a Reading Seed. This short, lean youth before her was no fairer-skinned than Chen Ping'an, and his eyes were unusually large. Everything about him felt strange. Add that clumsy, tongue-twisting pedantic drivel, and he was like an old crone plastering half a pound of rouge over tree-bark skin and pretending to be bashful. It was simply a tragedy beyond all human endurance.
Chen Ping'an did not trade threats with his peer from Apricot Blossom Alley. He bent slightly at the waist, suddenly exerted force, and charged straight ahead with the momentum of a galloping horse.
So fast!
Watching Chen Ping'an's rapidly receding back, Ning Yao saw that in almost the blink of an eye,