"I want the core to be unscathed!"
"Understood," Zechuan murmured calmly.
The Senior Apprentice blurred forward.
He didn't use a drop of his terrifying abyssal Qi.
He wielded her four-hundred-pound cast-iron wok like a blunt-force sledgehammer, executing a flawless combination of strikes that completely flattened the centipede's exoskeleton without puncturing the internal organs.
Three minutes later, he walked back to her, his white robes splattered with green venom, and politely deposited the pristine, glowing purple core into her open palm.
"Here is your core, Ji'an," he smiled softly, completely unfazed by the manual labor.
Ji'an gripped the core so tightly it nearly cracked. 'Why did he call me Ji'an? He's supposed to call me Martial Uncle! Why does he sound so fond of calling my name?!'
