"What happened? The people below said you came back not long ago, saying Bi Rong and the others had been captured?"
The master of the Divine Weapon Pavilion was named Bi Qingqing—a very feminine name.
Yet no matter how one looked at him, he was a rough man among rough men. Nearly two meters tall, broad-backed and thick-waisted, with a square face; one of his arms was as thick as an ordinary person's thigh.
Such a man bearing the name Bi Qingqing truly left people unsure whether to laugh or cry.
But even more speechless was his other identity.
Master of the Divine Weapon Pavilion.
Three things that should never have fit together, yet they happened to be embodied in Bi Qingqing.
Even so.
Anyone who truly regarded him as a man with nothing but muscles would be gravely mistaken.
Bi Qingqing was as delicate and meticulous as his name suggested.
Yet his character also possessed a toughness as imposing as his physique.
It was precisely because he was such a contradictory combination.
That no one had ever dared harbor the slightest thought about his position as master of the Divine Weapon Pavilion.
As time passed, the pressure his unusual aura brought upon others grew heavier and heavier.
That question sounded as light as drifting clouds and a gentle breeze.
Yet Bi Fuxing was so frightened that his whole body trembled. "I-I-I-I..."
"No need to rush yet. Someone, bring him a cup of water."
Bi Qingqing laughed several times in his rough voice. Only after Bi Fuxing used the water to wash away the terror in his heart did he ask again, "No rush. Speak slowly."
"We... we were ambushed."
After that brief respite, and after the river-water-like act of relaxing both body and mind, Bi Fuxing's fear was immediately