The night was deep and quiet.
The cold moonlight filtered through the window and into the living room, where it was absorbed by a ring suspended in mid-air.
This was the ring that Hong Ming had broken, but at this moment, as the moonlight gradually penetrated it, the cracked ring began to repair itself.
Bit by bit.
The cracks disappeared, and the entire ring took on a crystalline, translucent appearance.
Moved by a sudden inspiration, Xue An casually inscribed a tiny protective array on it.
After a flash of white light, the ring fell down.
At this point, the mere few-dollars street stall ring had undergone a great transformation, with the clear and transparent gem revealing a faint red glimmer.
This was the spiritual energy Xue An had infused into it.
The bedroom door creaked open.
Fan Mengxue walked out.
"Haven't you gone to bed yet?" Xue An asked indifferently.
