Xia Zhihuai had a worried expression on his face as he looked at the two elderly Taoist priests beside him. He felt that they were not doing well at the moment.
Long Xiangtao had no desire to speak anymore. Supported by Xia Zhihuai, he sat on a chair and sighed softly, “The younger generation is truly formidable.”
Piao Yuzhou had initially planned to pursue the opportunity and engage in a fierce battle with the thousand-year-old fierce ghost for several hundred rounds. However, he didn’t expect the situation to be resolved so easily.
He put away his copper coin sword and walked over to Wanwan’s side. Bending down, he examined the peach wood sword that was suppressing the malevolent ghost and exclaimed in surprise, “This peach wood sword?”
“It’s mine,” Wanwan proudly raised her little chin.
She cherished this sword dearly. Once, during a sword training class, she had beaten a little tiger from the White Tiger's Cave until it cried and ran home to complain.