Zhao Zheng’s iron pick froze in midair. For the first time, unmistakable surprise flashed in his eyes, deep as a frozen pool. He turned to look at the girl beside him, covered in sand and seaweed, her little face blue with cold but her eyes sparkling with a hint of smug delight. His thin lips parted, and he said, “Su family’s Ninth Young Lady, your skills… have improved.”
“Jiujiu!!! Which bastard laid a hand on my little sister?! I’ll beat him to death with gold ingots!!!”
