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No need for a coachman to take charge, four divine and enigmatic horses steadily trod forward.
Inside the luxurious carriage, there sat only one person and a Yin God.
Shen Yi closed his eyes, feigning sleep.
Compared to the last time he entered the capital, he no longer wore the frigid profound armor, only a clean and neat ink-black robe.
Reporting for duty at the Martial Temple did not require formal attire, a privilege enjoyed only by a state military commander.
Jiang Yuanhua, ethereal and drifting, sat opposite him: "Is General Officer so much in a hurry? I thought you would at least stay for two more months."
According to his estimation, Jiang Qiulan's Dao Infant was damaged, and he should have stayed in Qingzhou City for a while longer; he thought these two youths would enjoy this hard-to-come-by peace and tranquility.
Clicking his tongue.
