Dear Comrade Jia Xu, Greetings. Your Letter Is Like Seeing You in Person:

(An official announcement: 772 wasn't locked away, and I didn't go driving! What does driving mean? I'm still a child!)

(Yesterday, my brain short-circuited, and I actually missed posting 772.)

Jia Xu was extremely tense. His Spiritual Sense swept constantly around him, yet he detected no dangerous figures. It wasn't that there was no one on the road, but all the hurried passersby were merely ordinary people.

Suddenly, his Spiritual Sense sensed someone speeding past. Before Jia Xu could identify who it was, the horse pulling the carriage let out a loud neigh and reared up, bringing the carriage to an abrupt stop.

Jia Xu's body jolted, and he nearly fell over. After barely steadying himself, he took a deep breath. If it's a blessing, it isn't a curse; if it's a curse, there's no avoiding it. The newcomer was an expert, but at least he wasn't here to assassinate him. Otherwise, Jia Xu would already be dead.

Even in this mutated world, strategists were just as physically fragile as they had always been compared with generals. Generals still relied on martial strength, while strategists relied on their silver tongues. If someone really wanted to kill you, then unless you were a top strategist capable of arranging mutual destruction—and that was assuming the general didn't want to kill you from a distance—you had no chance.

In any case, Jia Xu, who no longer had anyone protecting him, could now be flattened or kneaded into any shape Zhao Yun pleased.

After entering the carriage, Zhao Yun looked at the white, plump old man before him and clasped his fists. "May I ask if you are Elder Jia?"

"I am Jia Xu. May I ask this general's name, and why you have come to seek out these old bones of mine?" Zhao