Luo Meng's perception unfolded layer by layer, touching the door like a gentle stream seeping into the cracks.
She sensed that the atmosphere inside the room was as stagnant as a pond.
Luo Meng's expression grew more grave. Could it be...
Is it really him...
"The strength that the Demon Path martial artist displayed is undoubtedly at the second limit, while Meng Chuan had just broken through the first limit not long ago...
Perhaps... there's still an undisclosed trump card..."
She recalled once more that peculiar turtle shell...
The bed was neatly made, the warmth from the tea in the cup on the table had completely faded away.
Swan-like perception followed along the floor, inch by inch inward...
At this moment, the sound of water splashing came from the bathroom.
At four in the morning, Meng Chuan, as usual, was about to "get up" and practice his fist skill.
Luo Meng's heart and spirit were suddenly awakened, and she withdrew her perception completely.
