Even after venting on the Demonic Peng King, Fang Xing was still in a bad mood. He took a wine gourd from his storage ring and drank while cursing about the god-damned-pellet-giving Fuyao Palace, swearing he would one day rob them clean.
On the morning of the second day—before he had fully awakened—Fang Xing felt a small tickle against his nose. He opened his eyes and found an attractive little girl leaning over the side of his bed using a blade of grass to tickle his nostrils. The girl wore an ordinary blue dress and had gleaming skin that needed no adornment, pupils as black as ink, and a playful smile on her face. She was an unmatched beauty, like that of an angel in one’s dreams….
