"Origin Continent, Jiang Yingrou."
Facing the hulking figure before him, Jiang Yingrou did not retreat half a step, nor did he show the slightest fear. He simply watched with a calm expression.
"Hermaphroditic, with an extreme yin body. An excellent constitution for a cultivation cauldron."
"Unfortunately, I'm not interested."
Pan Yue spoke in a deep, rumbling voice.
Jiang Yingrou stood at one side of the Arena, his red dress fluttering gently in the breeze, its hem trailing over the stone like the motionless tail feathers of a phoenix.
His amber eyes calmly regarded the stone giant opposite him, fifty feet tall.
There was not a trace of fear in his gaze, only a chill slowly congealing in the wake of an insult.
His left hand hung at his side, his fingertips slightly curled, with faint silver-white glimmers as fine as hair flickering between his fingers.
Those glimmers were so faint that they were impossible to notice without looking deliberately.
"A cultivation cauldron?"
Jiang Yingrou repeated the words, the corners of his cinnabar-red lips curving into an icy, icy arc.
His voice was clear and gentle, with a naturally soft, lingering lilt, yet every word landed like an ice needle piercing stone.
"Fellow Daoist Pan Yue, isn't it rather rude to call me a cultivation cauldron in front of so many people?"
Pan Yue stood at the other side of the Arena, his fifty-foot stone body resembling a silent, solitary peak.
His dark-gold eyes shifted slowly.
His gaze slid from Jiang Yingrou's breathtakingly beautiful face to his slender waist.
Then it moved to the crimson-painted toes of his bare feet before finally returning to those amber eyes.
His expression did not change, but the gray-brown dust mist puffing from his nostrils grew twice as thick as before.
"I'm only telling the