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's thousand-year foundation has never been easily attached 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, but the fingers resting on his sword hilt tightened slightly.
The atmosphere in the room abruptly grew tense.
Ning Fengzhi's face went pale, and he hurriedly said, "Uncle Sword, Your Majesty, let's talk this out—"
"No matter."
Yan Lingji raised a hand and cut him off.
She looked at Chen Xin, the smile in her peach-blossom eyes slowly fading, replaced by a cold, razor-sharp edge.
"Since Sword Douluo thinks I am being aggressive, then let me show Sword Douluo why I dare to be so aggressive."
The moment her words fell, a fierce sword intent suddenly erupted from Yan Lingji.
Chen Xin's pupils contracted sharply.
That sword intent which had hovered above Heaven Dou Imperial City for more than ten days—
That sword intent which had made him rush from the sect to Heaven Dou City overnight—
That sword intent which had made even Chen Xin, a swordsman, wary—
Had not belonged to some sword master hidden within the imperial palace.
It was Yan Lingji.
It was her.
An indescribable shock rose within Chen Xin's heart.
He had immersed himself in the sword for decades.
Yet the sword intent radiating from Yan Lingji—
Contained an artistic conception beyond the mundane amid its sharpness,
And an irresistible oppressive force amid its