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“Hahaha, good!” Chen Fan laughed out loud at the sight.
Qing Chan looked no older than fifteen or sixteen, delicate and young. In truth, she had cultivated for centuries and would be considered an ancient monster by ordinary standards. Yet her eyes remained clear and untainted.
Her innocence was not born of stupidity, but of protection. Her senior brothers had shielded her too well, keeping her far from the ugliness of the world. Such purity was not inherently wrong, but in the martial world, where the strong devoured the weak, it was a fatal flaw.
Chen Fan knew this, and everything he did now was for her sake.
“Hahaha, another one!”
Chen Fan crippled a second knight and threw him toward Qing Chan.
Qing Chan was still shaken from her first kill. She stared at the headless corpse before her, her mind reeling, her hands trembling uncontrollably. The weight of having taken a life pressed heavily on her heart.
She didn’t even notice that Chen Fan had thrown a second knight her way.
Although...
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