Yang Yuan raised a brow at Tang San's crimson-eyed expression.
Such a huge reaction—already seeing red?
He calmly said, "Tang San, injuries are inevitable in a Soul Master duel."
"Since when did Xiao Wu become so delicate that she can't even endure such a minor injury and needs you to stand up for her?"
Tang San's expression turned serious as he said in a low voice, "She is my younger sister now. I once promised that I would never let anyone hurt her."
"Third Brother!"
In the distance, Xiao Wu, who had only just steadied herself, softly called out.
Over the years, she and Tang San had spent every day together, and their bond had grown ever closer. She had already secretly developed feelings for him.
Now, seeing Tang San stand up for her, she was even more moved.
Blood trickled from the corner of Dai Mubai's mouth, and his face was deathly pale.
Yang Yuan's earlier palm strike had landed on his chest. That overwhelming force had broken more than a dozen of his bones.
The intense pain assaulted his nerves, and he had clenched his teeth tightly to keep himself from crying out.
A trace of blood also seeped from Zhu Zhuqing's lips as she stared in shock at the strength Yang Yuan had displayed.
It was hard to imagine that this unrealistically handsome youth before her possessed such terrifying strength.
How wonderful would it be if she had such talent?
Zhu Zhuqing's expression dimmed. She knew it was impossible.
A person's talent was determined from the moment they were born.
Take her, for example—Innate Level Seven Soul Power.
Even though she had trained desperately all these years, she had only reached Level Twenty-Seven at the age of eleven years and eight months.
Compared with Tang San and