Dong An, as one of the Four Great Elders of the Primordial Sect, has always managed the Foreign Affairs Hall and the disciples' duty roster, and not long ago, received several letters from Zhuo Yunfei, a disciple from the foothills. Naturally, he knew Chen Ping's identity at this moment.
He glanced at Chen Ping with a somewhat peculiar gaze, "Rou's newly accepted disciple has indeed achieved quite a bit at the base of the mountain. No wonder he doesn't know the height of the heavens and earth and wants to recruit soldiers at my Primordial Sect, haha..."
As he talked, he waved his sleeve, the wide, flowing sleeves of his robe swept like a cloud of black towards Chen Ping's chest.
Three pearls at the sleeve's edge whizzed with sharp cries, carried by a fierce wind, sweeping toward the chest and the left and right shoulder acupoints of Chen Ping.
"Flowing Cloud Flying Sleeve, quickly evade."
