Xu Yourong quietly stared at the Divine Path, stared for a very long time.
As the snowstorm intensified and slackened, nobody appeared.
The little Black Dragon had taken out a stewed beef knuckle from some place and was currently gnawing on it. In a muffled voice, she said, "If it's not the final moment, who would dare to kill you?"
Xu Yourong gave a faint smile, then turned and began to walk out of the Mausoleum of Books.
The Black Dragon thrust her hand into the snowstorm. The oil staining her hand was instantly frozen into powder by an extremely low temperature, then blown away by the wind, leaving her hand completely clean.
She looked at Xu Yourong's back and asked, "Just what do you want Wang Po to do?"
Xu Yourong still did not reply.
The little Black Dragon suddenly thought of a possibility, and her vertical pupils slightly constricted.
She chased after Xu Yourong and began to yell.
"You want him to intrude upon the Divine Path?
