To kill him, he would even kill the owner of this body?!
Terrified out of his wits, Succubus turned into a wisp of smoke and fled.
Wen Changgeng snorted coldly.
The sword stopped less than half an inch from Yan Yunhe's chest, then abruptly changed direction and slashed toward the wisp of smoke.
"Damn it! I fell for his trick!"
Succubus snapped to his senses, finally realizing that Wen Changgeng had only been feinting to force him out.
But his realization came too late.
The sword tore through the air and pinned the wisp of smoke to the wall, where it writhed and let out agonized wails.
At last, the smoke dissipated, and all fell silent.
Wen Changgeng turned his wrist. The sword shuddered and flew back into his hand.
He sheathed the blade and lowered his eyes to the man beneath his foot, his expression cold and haughty.
"Well, Spirit Sword Mountain's senior disciple? Do you admit defeat now?"
Yan Yunhe slowly came around. A seductive flush had crept into his sickly features.
In no hurry to rise, he remained lying beneath Wen Changgeng.
With a turn of his wrist, he gently waved his folding fan, the very picture of rakish elegance.
"If you keep me in this position much longer, admitting defeat won't be all I do."
Wen Changgeng withdrew his foot with a cold, derisive laugh.
"Spirit Sword Mountain really is full of hypocrites. You look respectable, but you're shameless enough to seduce others!"
"Oh?"
Yan Yunhe raised an eyebrow and turned the folding fan in his hand, using it to lift Wen Changgeng's chin.
He brought his handsome face closer, his gaze languid and seductive, his breath sweet as orchids.
"How do you know I'm seducing you? Because you're having wicked thoughts? Because you're tempted?"
"Nonsense!"