"..." Qingyi Buddha was at a loss for words; Zhou Xuan's mockery remained as sharp and powerful as ever.
Zhou Xuan stopped the mushy words of gratitude and asked, "Old Buddha, is that 'Wu Cang' really so hard to deal with? You're even injured."
Qingyi Buddha was wearing a straw raincoat, not exactly glamorous, but it was quite tidy before.
But now, Zhou Xuan could only see the raincoat in tatters, holes on the left, pits on the right, and with Qingyi Buddha's scars and bloodstains, calling him 'disheveled' wouldn't be an exaggeration.
"Uh... this... it's not that 'Wu Cang' is powerful; it's just that I had a little spar with Brother Tian Can."
Qingyi Buddha was too embarrassed to explain the recent events to Zhou Xuan—it was too humiliating.
"You two must be really idle. While I was desperately trying to fool Ning Yu, you guys didn't seriously deal with 'Wu Cang' and even had the thought to spar?"
