Shangguan Hong violently turned her head, staring in astonishment at the black-clad pervert holding a broken dagger, wailing as he plunged downwards.
No, this is Huang Yiri!
Alarm bells rang in Shangguan Hong's mind. She reached out her hand to grasp Huang Yiri's collar, preventing him from plummeting like a bat with its wings clipped.
But this caused the Eight-faced Han Sword, which originally bore less than 110 pounds, to suddenly be burdened with over 300 pounds. Moreover, these were not 300 static pounds, but rapidly falling ones.
Then...
The heroine's forearms visibly bulged with veins, her hand almost unable to maintain its grip on the Eight-faced Han Sword. Fortunately, years of practicing the Sword Dao had made Shangguan Hong's forearms as steadfast as stone, and even in this special situation, she did not let go.
