"Quick! Send a telegram! Black Storm has returned!"
Wang Jixuan sat in the conference room of the Fortress No. 76 museum.
People kept rushing through the corridor.
Some hurried over from the surface, while others dropped what they were doing the moment they received the news and rushed over to see for themselves. Order and hierarchy seemed to have failed at this moment. Everyone was talking about the same subject.
[Ah, so this is Black Storm.]
Daoist Wang sat there, calm and composed.
A middle-aged woman in a business skirt suit nervously stepped forward and asked softly, "Um, sir, would you like something to drink?"
"A cup of tea."
Wang Jixuan instructed:
"If you get in touch with them, please let me know."
"Yes, of course!"
The woman turned and headed toward the simple refreshment bar nearby.
Wang Jixuan leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes to rest.
Perhaps Beta had persuaded him;
or perhaps it was the thick, lingering guilt rising from the depths of his heart.
Wang Jixuan had actually become somewhat afraid to see Ling Tong.
Though he had gone away to heal, not to indulge himself, he had been gone for far too long this time—long enough for an ordinary person to live out an entire life.
Ling Tong's body had been nourished and altered by his spiritual energy.
She would have the two to three hundred years of lifespan of a Foundation Establishment cultivator.
But eighty years...
The best years of her life had been wasted away by time. For the next eighty years, the next one hundred and sixty years, Wang Jixuan would naturally never leave her for so long again.
Suddenly.
The projection devices in all four corners of the conference room lit up at once. Light intertwined, and a figure