The woman was startled.
The young man who seemed non-threatening just a moment ago suddenly exuded an intimidating aura, leaving the woman frozen in place.
"Cough, cough..."
Ming Xian leaned against the railing, coughing.
The woman bit her lip, made up her mind as if summoning courage, and moved forward: "Young master, are you alright?"
Ming Xian stepped back, and the woman's hand reached out into the air. She forced a faint smile: "Young master, I only saw that you were in distress, are you alright?"
"What are you doing?"
The familiar voice caused Ming Xian's body to stiffen slightly, a wave of panic unexpectedly flashed in his heart.
However, the next second he puzzledly thought, he hadn't done anything, so why panic?
Ming Xian was clutching his still-injured shoulder, supporting himself with a sword, and did not make a sound.
