Pei Yan, lying in Zhao Yuanhu's arms, coldly observed the Demon Race members of Sifuer gathering around with faces full of concern and guilt. Although he had long regained his ability to move, he deliberately feigned a fragile and weak appearance, turning his head to the side without saying a word.
"This, this, this Mr. Shitang..." Bailang stood awkwardly in place, rubbing his hands. Whether it was for the merits earned in this battle or for saving the life of their own lord, the other party had been of utmost assistance, yet due to his worry, he had left them aside for quite some time, which was unreasonable in terms of feelings and logic.
Compared to Pei Yan's previously assertive attitude, his current display left Bailang at a loss, wishing the other would scold him a bit to make it seem more reasonable.
