Jian Wushuang's face turned pale.
So he's a peak One-Star Grandmaster! No wonder I wasn't his match.
Although he had comprehended Sword Intent, his strength was only equivalent to a mid-stage One-Star Grandmaster. Even if he fought desperately, he could at most contend with a late-stage one. Facing a peak One-Star Grandmaster, he was no match at all. His defeat was not unjust.
Seeing Jian Wushuang's shocked expression, the Ninth Prince of Liuyun wore a smug smile.
Compete with me? This Great Xia Country is far too lacking.
But just then, a cold scoff sounded out. "What's so great about a peak One-Star Grandmaster? You're not even fit to carry Young Master Lin's shoes."
"What did you say?" The Ninth Prince of Liuyun grew angry. He turned to look at Ye Qingwu and said coldly, "Say that again."
"I said, you're not fit to carry Junior Brother Lin's shoes," Ye Qingwu snorted.
