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Everything before him was such a coincidence. Dou Jing's wife actually came from Chenlin Village, and she had even been one of the Personal Attendants.
It was downright fantastical.
In the past, Chen Xiaojun might have privately marveled at his treatment as the "protagonist." When fortune favored him, heaven and earth lent their strength-whatever he lacked would come knocking at his door.
But now, an indescribable chill suddenly shot up from the soles of his feet, straight to the crown of his head!
This chill did not come from outside. It rose from that eerie resonance and throbbing deep within his Sea of Consciousness.
Almost unconsciously, his long, fair fingers pressed against his forehead, and a sliver of his awareness instantly sank into the vast Upper Soul Nest, where hidden currents surged.
Above his Sea of Consciousness, the Black-Red Cocoon, radiating an ominous, unfathomable aura, flashed! Flashed! Flashed!
Was it you again?
Deep in Chen Xiaojun's heart, an icy voice questioned it silently.
Were you weaving this so-called "fate"?
Behind this all-too-seamless "coincidence," this seemingly painstakingly arranged "reunion," was the Great Siming quietly at work?
Whenever "fate" was involved, its course was always so strange and inscrutable, yet carried a chilling sense that everything was "only natural."
Just then, a faintly cool strand of pure Soul Power, brimming with vitality, flowed soundlessly into his meridians, gently brushing the nerves drawn taut by alarm and that icy chill.
It was Xiao Yi.
At some point, she had quietly come to his side.
She said nothing. Her clear, almond-shaped eyes, limpid as autumn waters, simply gazed at him.
That refreshing strand of Life Soul Power came from the fingertips she had laid against his wrist. It dispelled some of the discomfort caused by the turmoil