Lei Ba barked with laughter, the purple electricity along his saber spitting sparks across the wooden desk.
“Orientation?” Lei Ba sneered, leaning his face forward. “Mortal fool, do you know who you are speaking to? I am Lei Ba, core prodigy of the Purple-Thunder Sect! One word from me, and your entire flea market gets turned into charcoal!”
Before Lin Mo could answer, the air filled with the scent of jasmine and peach blossoms.
A floating pink sedan chair glided across the cobblestones, carried by four masked maidens in silk dresses. A wealthy young cultivator with a golden coronet walked alongside the chair, fanning himself with an ivory fan.
The silk curtains parted. A young woman stepped out, floating lightly down to the cobblestones. She wore gossamer pink robes that fluttered in the autumn breeze. Her jade pendants chimed softly with each step.
This was Saintess Yao Ji of the Mirage Sect. Beside her stood Young Master Song, wealthy heir of the Seven-Stars Trading Clan.
Lin Mo’s Pure-Heart Eye scanned them both.
Young Master Song glowed with a dull nineteen. Saintess Yao Ji glowed in bright, toxic crimson. Her score was a measly three.
