2 Dying
It didn’t make a difference whether she was present or not; her teammates were utterly indifferent to her affairs.
Qiong Hao cast a sidelong glance at Qiao Mu. He truly had the audacity to step forward with a resounding clack. He glared coldly at Qiao Mu and inquired, “Where is it?”
An icicle sped toward his face.
Almost instantaneously, before he could react, Qiong Hao’s expression wavered, and he swiftly sidestepped in a fluster. He had just conjured a defensive barrier with his hand.
That icicle pierced through the protective layer in front of him in virtually no time.
The razor-sharp icicles materialized before him with a swish, barely an inch away from his forehead.
Any closer, and this dagger-like icicle would have impaled his forehead.
With astonishment, Qiong Hao stared at the icicle mere inches from him. He took a deep breath and froze, afraid to make even the slightest movement.
“Poor Big Bro!” Shi Yongqian exclaimed in alarm. She hurriedly rushed to Qiong Hao’s side, supporting his arm. She turned to Qiao Mu and cried out, “Crown Prince Consort, Poor Big Bro only misspoke. Must you be so merciless?”
“Hand over all the herbs you gathered in North Wangda Forest,” Qiao Mu’s voice was frigid, “Empty out everything from your inner world until you prove you possess no more herbs.”
“If you’ve got even a single strand of herb, I’ll end you!” Qiao Mu’s fingers twitched slightly, causing the icicle in front of Qiong Hao to inch closer. It was now dangerously close to his forehead.
The bone-chilling coldness stung his forehead.
A droplet of blood slowly trailed down from his forehead due to the biting cold.
Dai’er and the others involuntarily smirked with cynicism.
They had long recognized the little lady’s tactics as extraordinary. That talisman could obliterate several dozen black-clothed individuals at once, let alone a mere Qiong Hao.
The Dai’er Mercenary Group had never shared an amicable relationship with Shi Lang and his associates. Naturally, there was no special effort made to caution Shi Lang, Qiong Hao, and the rest about underestimating the capabilities of the young lady.
Observing this spectacle, Daye and her crew found themselves secretly entertained by the plight of this hapless assistant commander.
They had assumed the other side held the advantage, considering their status as level-three minor spiritual cultivators. However, the tables had turned, leaving them utterly defeated.
“You, you!” Qiong Hao attempted to retreat, yet an invisible force seemed to confine him, rendering him immobile.
Only now did he grasp the extent of his own misfortune, realizing he had walked right into a trap.
With an almost forced smile, he directed his words at Mo Lian, who stood nearby. “Your Highness the Crown Prince, while your intention to assist the Crown Prince Consort is understandable, resorting to covert actions like this might not be the most prudent approach.”
Even at this moment, Qiong Hao held onto the belief that his unfortunate predicament, the inability to move and being held in check by the Crown Prince Consort and the Junior Crown Prince Consort, was undoubtedly due to the intervention of the Crown Prince himself, whose cultivation he couldn’t gauge.
Crown Prince Mo, Crown Prince Mo, and Duan Yue’s allies exchanged contemptuous glances with Qiong Hao, silently communicating a collective sentiment of “look at this fool.”
/Does Miss Qiao truly require external aid?/
/Don’t be ridiculous./
/Restraint of a level-12 spiritual cultivator isn’t something they’d bother with./
/After roaming the world for so many years, he still speaks about cultivation in such a naive manner. It’s quite comical./
/Deserves the consequences of provoking the wrong opponent./
“Enough nonsense.” Qiao Mu saw no need for explanations. Conjuring a faint aqua hue around her hand, she spoke in an icy tone, “Hand it over, or don’t. Refusal means death.”
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