When the Wen siblings and the others arrived, they found the guard surnamed Lin chipping away at the ice in search of bodies, while Fang Qianyuan sat beside a campfire, roasting meat and wiping Little White's mouth with a towel.
Apparently, Fang Qianyuan had little experience with this task and was a little too rough. Little White bared her teeth and whined, then simply broke free and refused to let him wipe her mouth again.
A slightly bewildered look appeared on Fang Qianyuan's face. He beckoned and coaxed Little White, but she merely shook her head and would not come closer.
Fang Qianyuan said helplessly, "You've gotten blood all over your mouth. No more biting people whenever you please!"
The others surveyed their surroundings and felt a chill run through them. When they looked at Fang Qianyuan again, their expressions had changed completely.
Previously, they had only heard that Fang Qianyuan was an outstanding disciple of the Lord of Ten Thousand Miles, with a record of killing a fierce Tenth Transformation bandit, and therefore could not be underestimated. Only now did they truly begin to understand his strength.
These seasoned Greenwood fighters and highway robbers inevitably suffered from the shallow foundations and limited resources of rogue cultivators, but in vigilance and ferocity, they surpassed even some experts from aristocratic clans and disciples of sects. Those qualities could play an enormous role in actual combat.
Yet Fang Qianyuan had dealt with every last one of them single-handedly in the brief time it took the others to come to his aid.
The craters and shattered ice on the ground, along with the dead bandits' expressions of despair and terror, stood in stark contrast to Fang Qianyuan's uninjured, utterly relaxed state. An absurd suspicion even arose unbidden: could these men have been dead