The Spitting Color-Painting Birds

An Jiuyue had just left the tent when she saw Gong Cheng, his clothes colorful. He was stomping his feet and cursing the demonic beasts nearby.

"What sort of demonic beast is that? When it couldn't win, it spat—and it spat colorful spittle! What kind of demonic beast is that, Yan Qin? Why haven't I seen it before?

"Also, why did it spit on me but not on you? Am I special, or are you too ordinary? How is that possible?"

Yan Qin touched the tip of his nose and thought to himself, "Young Master Gong, you've never fought before. And this is only your second time at Huayan Peak, okay?"

Gong Cheng glared at him when he did not reply. "Say something!"

Yan Qin opened his palms and said helplessly, "Young Master Gong, I advised you not to wear white clothes. You insisted on wearing them. I had no choice."

"What does this have to do with what I'm wearing?!" Gong Cheng stomped his feet.