"Manor Lord, you're bleeding." Huayu Ting revealed a faint smile, the tone of her voice laced with mockery.
"Hmph, it's just a minor scratch. Nothing worth fussing over. Speaking of which, I suppose the Young Patriarch's inner strength must be nearing depletion by now?" Wuting Yan sneered coldly, retorting without reservation.
"Thank you for your concern, Manor Lord. If you doubt it, why not step up and test whether I am truly unable to fight any longer?" Huayu Ting spoke with the same confident smile.
Wuting Yan naturally dared not step forward again. His hand was already rendered useless, a glaring weakness exposed. If he overexerted himself any further, he might truly lose the use of his hand entirely.
