"Pugh—Cough, cough, cough!"
Dugen spat out a mouthful of blood, which instantly solidified in the air into several mysterious and obscure rune patterns. With a flick of his magic wand in hand, it transformed, condensing into an ice crystal blade.
"Someone like you shouldn't be a nobody."
Li Aozi did not reply. He simply walked over with his hands behind his back, like a young man strolling by a lake. The cold wind swept through, lifting his hair, and for the first time, Dugen experienced what it meant to be dazzlingly beautiful—just making eye contact with Li Aozi made him feel deep shame, leaving only self-loathing in his heart.
"You won't answer? Heh, truly arrogant."
He leveled the blade in front of him, and the runes burst forth with intense light. Dugen Gorath looked towards the man standing leisurely in the distance, who appeared as if on a casual outing, and until now, hadn't even taken out a weapon.
"Son of Artamas, rise and fight for me!"
