The white cricket, with its round head and wide back, had six legs, its hind legs especially robust. It was caught between Zhou Xuan's fingers, continuously struggling with strength.
Zhou Xuan flipped the cricket over and saw the creature's mouthparts — a needle-like proboscis resembling that of a mosquito.
He found it very curious, sneering coldly at Ning Bukong, he said with a tone of mockery,
"Ordinary families, those small households, are most afraid of bugs and rats. There's an old saying in the pawnshop business — insects gnaw, rats bite, leaving a bare plank with no fur, just a worn-out cotton-padded jacket.
If something of value in the house is chewed by bugs, it becomes worthless, let alone the Secret Realm of a Cultivation Disciple?"
"If the Secret Realm is plagued by insects, how can it remain good?"
Zhou Xuan squatted down, holding the white cricket, letting it slowly pass in front of Ning Bukong's nose.
Ning Bukong's rodent-like eyes never left the insect.
