"Truly a die-hard fan," Qing Yu sighed inwardly as he looked at Xuan Shang, whose eyes were bloodshot.
Such die-hard fans were dearly loved by countless aspirants of great ambitions, and Qing Yu once had them too, unfortunately ruined by Lu Qifeng.
As for Feng Jiu, created through coercion and power, she was a die-hard fan produced solely by Qing Yu's various means, different from the others.
"Speak now, who is it?" Xuan Shang growled lowly.
This Uncle Master Xuan Shang was indeed genuine; his previous cold hardness had now dissolved completely, transforming into intense rage. His furious aura filled the entire Taoist Temple; the pressure, resonating with the surroundings, became unprecedentedly immense, causing the little Taoist on the other side to faint.
Should he tell Xuan Shang?
Qing Yu was pondering over this question.
"It seems I must tell him," Qing Yu thought, observing Xuan Shang's increasingly impatient gaze.
