"Hu," "Hu"...
Xu Yi was going mad. What kind of mighty being could forge a living creature with a single breath?
A thought stirred in his mind, and he asked, "Were you born from Senior Guangchengzi?"
"Hu Hu," "Hu Hu"...
"Could it have been Senior Yin Jiao?"
"Hu Hu," "Hu Hu"...
Xu Yi suddenly realized that Hu Hu might not even know who Guangchengzi or Yin Jiao were.
With a thought, a booklet appeared in his palm. It was one of the books Executive Zheng had given him about Guangcheng Immortal Mansion.
He opened it to a page, revealing the portrait of an ancient-looking Daoist. Hu Hu suddenly grew excited, floating over to the portrait and rubbing it over and over.
"Is that him?"
"Hu Hu!"
Xu Yi thought to himself, So it was Yin Jiao!
Just what terrifying abilities must Guangchengzi have had, then?
Still shaken, Xu Yi looked at Hu Hu's round, guileless appearance and suddenly felt sorry for him.
If Hu Hu had no spiritual awareness, that would be one thing. But he did—and what a tragedy that was.
It was like a corpse lying in a coffin, with the sun and moon wheeling past it. Even after a thousand years, or ten thousand, to know and feel nothing would be a kind of happiness.
But if that corpse could feel and remained trapped in the coffin, suffering for ten thousand years, that would undoubtedly be the cruelest punishment of all.
Xu Yi gently stroked Hu Hu's head, unsure what to say to comfort him.
He suddenly understood why Hu Hu had been so delighted when he discovered Xu Yi.
"Hu," "Hu"...
As if sensing Xu Yi's feelings, Hu Hu floated above his head and conjured a palm. Imitating him, Hu Hu gently stroked the top of