"Have you finished cursing me yet?"
"No!"
The Sword Spirit retorted without a second thought, continuing with a cold laugh:
"Anyway, that old bastard is about to find us and take Zhao, the young lord, to his grave. I'll curse you a few more times to vent my anger. Later, I'll appreciate the old bastard's skill in flaying, and Zhao, the young lord's heroic composure without batting an eyelid, at least that way I can die in peace. Oh right, on the Netherworld Road later, don't come near me, scram as far away as you can, or I'll beat you. Hmph, I don't want to see you in the next life. We should reincarnate separately, so as not to infect each other with bad luck."
The Sword Spirit's tone was arrogantly aloof.
Zhao Rong: "......"
He fell silent for a while, then finally shook his head, not retorting.
