Noon the next day.
Xu Wendong was still lost in the tender embrace of last night's warmth with Lin Yiren, his mind wandering in that enchanting dream, when suddenly the phone rang disruptively, urgently breaking the tranquility.
He glanced groggily at the screen, noticing it was Zhang Nian's number, and instinctively frowned slightly before raising his hand to press the answer button.
"Master, something's happened, come to the shop quickly!" Zhang Nian's frantic voice instantly entered Xu Wendong's ears, dispelling the remnants of his sleepiness.
With a slightly lazy and hoarse voice that carried the remnants of just waking up, he weakly asked, "What happened?"
In his heart, the Mystic Spirit Pavilion was protected by layers of defenses he had personally set. The words "Mystic Spirit Pavilion" were written by his own hand.
