The white demon before him was actually a woman, dressed in a silver-white magical skirt. Her skin, hair, boots, and even socks were all white. Even her lips were not adorned with rouge, appearing just pale and cold - two lips that, together with her expression, gave an impression of an inviolable white frost. At least in terms of appearance, there was none more like a white demon present, yet at this moment, her jade-like, beautiful but ice-cold face showed a hint of astonishment.
"Why... is it you..."
Fang Xing looked at the white demon for a long time before he spoke, his voice somewhat dry, with a low bitter smile.
"I also didn't expect it to be you. When did your cultivation become so weak?"
The white demon spoke with a hint of surprise, a strand of white hair tossed back, and the flying sword it wrapped fell to the ground with a clatter.
"It's not just weak, it's as if I have no cultivation at all!"
