After speaking, Meng Chuan bypassed her and walked toward the foot of the nearby mountain by himself.
Seeing that he really ignored her, Ling Qiaofeng frowned, stamped her foot in anger, and took out a radiant, long spear from her sachet.
This spear looked quite peculiar.
Distinct phoenix feathers wrapped around the spear's neck, extending to the shaft with gold and red embellishments, emitting a colorful radiance under the sunlight.
The spearhead was over a foot long, with a tip curved like a phoenix's beak, a faint crimson glow subtly appearing and disappearing along the blade, as if breathing.
Yang Yuelian flipped and leaped, landing in front of Meng Chuan.
With her hands behind her back, she pointed the spearhead diagonally downward, looking down from a height, relying on the mountain's altitude.
Meng Chuan stared at the blade tip, feeling a slight tingling sensation on his skin.
