Yang Qing threw a roundhouse kick at the orange-red-haired man as he was turning.
"Momentary distraction is a dangerous thing to have in a battle, your highness," Yang Qing gently said to the orange-red-haired man who was sent to the floor with the kick.
He was bleeding from the nose as a small indentation appeared on the cheek that was just kicked in.
Instead of being livid, he was visibly shaken because if he hadn't tried to deflect some of the weight of the attack with the hilt of his sword he would have lost his eye and suffered even more serious injuries.
"Just who did we provoke?" he bitterly muttered as he threw a complicated gaze towards the source of all this, the golden-haired man who was currently surrounded by a purple peacock that had purple flames around it.
"Fellow daoist we can still go our separate ways and put past grievances behind us," said the golden-haired man.