Chapter 73: Falling Flower Grade Poetry and Furnace Tripods

The air was as thick as grease at this moment.

Qingjingzi had experienced the greatest insult of his life, deeply etched into his soul.

With every breath, it felt like a drowning man desperately searching for any wisp of air while being choked by the sea.

His face was expressionless, and his eyes squinted forcibly, merely to conceal the murderous intent flooding them!

However, his hand that was grasping at prayer beads in front of his stomach betrayed his emotions as it clenched tightly, trembling nonstop.

Qingjingzi slightly tilted his head left and right, and noticed that everyone within his field of view, just like the young Confucian scholar he wished to flay alive, was watching him, awaiting his answer.

He even had the illusion that the surrounding onlookers were all mocking him with the same jesting and disdainful gazes as Zhao Ziyu.