Yan Zhexian only stood at the entrance of the temple casually. Dense runic patterns naturally appeared around her delicate body, interweaving like a spider web.
White saint light radiated from her body, resonating with the Buddhist light in the temple.
"Since you kept your sword and didn't kill me just now, you can destroy your cultivation. I can guarantee that you will leave this place alive," Yan Zhexian said.
Yan Huangtu stared at her deeply and didn't say anything. It was obvious that he had tacitly agreed to her promise.
Zhang Ruochen held the wet black parasol in his hand and said calmly, "If I cripple my cultivation, even if I can leave this place alive, I'll soon die somewhere else."
Yan Zhexian said, "I can guarantee your life until the day you die of old age."