When Li Taiqing asked about the outcome of the following match, He Yun smiled faintly and countered, "Who do you think won, Senior Brother?"
"I have to guess...?"
Li Taiqing was exasperated. He shook his head, thought for a moment, and said, "I'm guessing Bolta won."
He Yun clapped her hands and laughed. "Wrong!"
"What? Zhao Lin won?"
Li Taiqing was stunned. He pressed her in disbelief, "He really won? You're not pulling my leg, are you?"
He Yun pouted, stomped her foot, and put her hands on her hips. "Why don't you believe me, Senior Brother! I'm telling you, Zhao Lin won."
"Don't be angry, Junior Sister..."
Li Taiqing pulled a chair over and sat down, his voice softening. "Tell me. How did Zhao Lin manage to win?"
In his mind, the strongest competitors in this Grand Assembly were, without a doubt, Basang and Bolta.
