With a magic artifact right in front of him, even White Dragon was no longer all that enticing.
Xiang Yuan dashed over in a puff of smoke, scooped up the alms bowl from the ground, and stuffed it into his robes. Turning to White Dragon, he said, "Senior Sister, with grace like that of a goddess, surely you wouldn't lower yourself to fight your junior brother over a filthy bald donkey's magic artifact?"
Of course not!
White Dragon gave herself the proper answer, but her waist still felt uncomfortable, as if those thieving hands were still there. She snorted coldly. "Whether it's filthy or not isn't for you to decide. Hand it over and let me inspect it. If it's junk, it won't be too late to give it back to you."
A man's head and a woman's waist—how could a woman's waist be touched so casually? Though White Dragon was an icy beauty with a cold temperament, she was not yet twenty. Having suffered a loss, she naturally had to get even.
Besides, she knew perfectly well that Xiang Yuan had done it on purpose.
Touching him back was certainly impossible. She could not let this slight pass unpaid; she had to reclaim it elsewhere.
And just in time, an opportunity had arrived.
"Senior Sister, I contributed greatly in this battle. If not for me, Junior Brother, you would surely have fallen into that lecherous monk's clutches. I protected a flower with merit—don't let a good man's heart turn cold." Xiang Yuan stepped forward reluctantly.
Right. She had escaped that lecherous monk's clutches, only to fall into yours.
The more White Dragon thought about it, the angrier she became. She snatched the alms bowl from Xiang Yuan's arms, glanced at it a few times, then stuffed it back into