Bang!
When he threw the black stone to the ground, the Taoist Temple's floor trembled. Chen Feng, utterly exhausted, collapsed onto the ground as well.
Seeing the faintly reddish sweat on Chen Feng's body, Qian Ya said coolly, "If you lie down now, then by the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, you won't be able to get back up."
Whoosh!
At those words, Chen Feng, who had been lying on the ground, sprang to his feet in an instant.
"Miss Qian, is there no other way to carry stones like these?"
"At this rate, when will I ever gather enough materials to repair the courtyard wall?"
Qian Ya glanced at Chen Feng and said, "This method carries too few stones. Can't you hold one in each hand?"
"Huh?"
"What do you mean, 'huh'?"
"I heard that Sir has snatched the sword from your hand several times. A swordsman who cannot even keep hold of his own weapon—are you worthy of using a sword?"
Qian Ya's words left Chen Feng looking troubled.
"Miss Qian, what does carrying stones have to do with wielding a sword?"
"Hold a stone in each hand, and you train your wrists and arms."
"If you grip it tighter, then Sir won't be able to snatch your sword away."
"That works too?"
"Why wouldn't it?"
Looking up at Chen Feng, Qian Ya said calmly, "No matter how nimble your enemy's movement technique is, no matter how high his realm."
"If he wants to take the sword from your hand, he can only pry your fingers open and seize it by force."
"As long as you grip it tightly enough, unless he cuts off your hand, no one can take your sword from you."
"You don't mean to say you don't understand such a