"Nothing is impossible," Yan Wanqing's current sneer was as distasteful as it could get, a waste of her delicate beauty.
Having immersed herself in the bureaucratic and battlefield politics for years, how could Yan Wanqing fail to see through Chen Wei's little schemes?
"Now that the Painted Screen Fan has acknowledged me as its master, naturally, I can do whatever I want. Since the Holy Maiden's spirit resides in the fan, she has, in essence, signed a contract with me. Now, both you and this fan must serve me."
Chen Wei's face twisted with rage.
"Nonsense!"
"Don't believe me? Try it."
Chen Wei raised her hand and sent a gust of wind blade towards Yan Wanqing's face, but the next second it vanished into thin air.
Now Chen Wei's face turned pale.
Could it be, as this scoundrel said, both she and the Painted Screen Fan were now under her command?
