Yan Lingji turned to look at him.
"Speak."
Chen Xin looked at her, fell silent for a moment, then said in a deep voice:
"Your Majesty's battle last night was indeed astonishing.
But the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect has stood for a thousand years and has never lightly attached itself to another.
Since the young sect master has already made his position clear, why must Your Majesty press so aggressively?"
Yan Lingji let out a soft laugh.
"Is Sword Douluo teaching me how to do things?"
Chen Xin's brows furrowed slightly.
He said nothing. Only the fingers resting on his sword hilt tightened slightly.
The atmosphere in the room abruptly turned tense.
Ning Fengzhi's face went pale as he hurriedly said, "Uncle Sword, Your Majesty, let's talk this out—"
"No matter."
Yan Lingji raised a hand, cutting him off.
She looked at Chen Xin. The smile in her peach-blossom eyes slowly faded, replaced by an icy sharpness.
"Since Sword Douluo thinks I am being overly aggressive, then I shall let Sword Douluo see—why I dare to be so aggressive."
The moment her words fell, a fierce sword intent suddenly erupted from Yan Lingji's body.
Chen Xin's pupils abruptly contracted.
That sword intent which had hovered above Heaven Dou Imperial City for more than ten days—
That sword intent which had made him rush overnight from the sect to Heaven Dou City—
That sword intent which had made even Chen Xin, a master of the sword, feel wary—
It had not belonged to some hidden sword master within the imperial palace.
It was Yan Lingji.
It was her.
An indescribable shock surged through Chen Xin's heart.
He had immersed himself in the sword for decades—
Yet the sword intent emanating from Yan Lingji—
Contained an otherworldly realm within its sharpness,