Shang Junxiao said in fear, "Abbot, Abbot, what are you..."
"Don't talk." Jiangli stared at him intently, expressionless, "Look into my eyes."
Shang Junxiao subconsciously looked over.
However.
As soon as his gaze met Jiangli's, his consciousness became blurry, as if he was about to fall asleep but hadn't fully succumbed to slumber.
Following that, he felt a tightening in his temple, as if someone had yanked the nerve at the back of his neck, making his entire body tense.
He instinctively grasped Jiangli's hand tightly.
Seeing this, Wen Zishu slowly turned his eyes toward Fu Shiyan.
Fu Shiyan was sitting there, immovable, seemingly unperturbed.
That is, if you ignored the fact that his gaze had been fixed on Shang Junxiao all along.
Wen Zishu thought to himself that it was fortunate his third brother never showed his feelings.
Otherwise, he would probably have drawn a sword and slashed at Shang Junxiao's hand by now.
He looked at Old Shang with bit of sympathy.
