Hu Xiaotian hastily swung the broken spearhead in his hand. Clang! He struck the feathered arrow aside, but to his surprise, it was spinning as it flew. The spearhead failed to knock it down and merely changed its course, sending it diagonally upward into the top of his thigh. Hu Xiaotian screamed and fell flat on the ground, his limbs sprawling.
Huo Shengnan had thought the voice sounded familiar from Hu Xiaotian's first scream. By his second, she was almost certain he was the one in disguise. But how could she take back an arrow already loosed? Her heart leaped into her throat. She drew her bow and nocked another arrow, but did not release this third shot. Instead, she darted up to Hu Xiaotian, the coldly gleaming arrowhead aimed at his throat.
Hu Xiaotian was now in a truly sorry state. He had tried to steal a chicken, only to lose a handful of rice. He had meant to indulge in a little flirtatious fun with Huo Shengnan, but instead of playing with fire, he had gotten himself burned. The bloody gash across his chest was bad enough, but Huo Shengnan's second arrow had struck the top of his left thigh. Had it landed another inch toward the middle, the happiness of his lower half would probably have ended right there. Even so, the wound was far from light: the entire arrowhead had buried itself in his flesh. Hu Xiaotian possessed abundant internal power, but had yet to reach the point where he could release and retract it at will, much less produce body-protecting astral force. Fortunately, once the arrowhead entered his flesh, it triggered an instinctive response within him. The true qi generated by that reaction offered some resistance, keeping the arrow from piercing all the way into