Amid the evil cultivator's cries of pain, the way Zhang Lan and the other two looked at Mo Hua grew even more complicated.
Mo Hua set Zhang Lan's sword on the ground and wiped it, but the bloodstains were still there and would not come off.
Zhang Lan sighed, helplessly took the sword back, and slid it straight into its sheath.
"All right, that's that. We can go back now."
Then Mo Hua still led the way, while Zhang Lan and the other two took turns dragging that evil cultivator down the mountain path.
As for whether the evil cultivator would be jolted to death, they could not be bothered to care.
If the jolting did not kill him, he had a tough fate. If it did, he deserved it.
On the way, Situ Fang could not help praising him:
"Mo Hua, your movement technique is amazing!"
She had been watching from the side earlier, and it had scared her into a cold sweat.
When she saw Mo Hua dodge out from under the evil cultivator's hands every time, she let out a breath of relief, and could not help feeling admiration too.
Mo Hua felt sweet as honey inside, but on the surface he still said modestly:
"Oh, not at all. It's just so-so."
"Who taught you?" Situ Fang asked.
Zhang Lan coughed a few times.
Mo Hua glanced at him and said in a prim, proper tone, "A passing, nameless, kindhearted uncle taught me..."
Situ Fang said doubtfully, "There are people like that?"
She thought for a moment, then secretly said to Zhang Lan, "The way I see it, why does it look so much like your Zhang Family's Flowing Water Step?"
Zhang Lan choked outright, coughed several more times, and only recovered after a long while. He