Qiao Ranran pointed at herself in surprise. She had never expected someone to point at her nose and call her a "wretch," in a tone that sounded like he was scolding his own grandson.
But before Qiao Ranran could speak, Yan Qingsui let out a furious shout, even more overbearing than the male cultivator had been. "Where did this Shameless Old Man come from? One of you shamelessly insists on clinging to someone who wants nothing to do with her, and the other rushes to defend his old flame without knowing right from wrong! What sort of wretched pair dares come near Qiao Ranran? Have you asked the sword in my hand? ..."
Qiao Ranran sucked in a breath. Where Pei Ling struck ruthlessly and had no end of underhanded tricks, Yan Qingsui charged straight at his opponents. He took the Sword Cultivator's spirit of drawing a sword without regret to its utmost. And after suffering a setback once, the boy had learned to judge his own strength before picking a fight. Still, with Sword Venerable Jinglin for a father, he had plenty of days ahead to strut around like a fox borrowing a tiger's might!
The male cultivator was only at the Nascent Soul Stage. Against Yan Qingsui, who had reached Great Perfection of the Golden Core, he had no chance of winning—fighting above their level was routine for Sword Cultivators. Besides, he had no wish to offend Yan Qingsui.
Presumably, he had not known Yan Qingsui and Qiao Ranran were acquainted. Yan Qingsui had stepped forward for her so openly and with such righteous confidence, and judging by their expressions, the two knew each other well. That made things rather awkward.
The male cultivator stammered, "Junior Sister Su did raise her, after all. For her to defy her