Ever since Chen Wei noticed something strange about Yang Chan, he had begun paying attention to every little detail.
After two days of careful observation, his suspicions only deepened.
Immortals also possessed three souls and seven spirits, yet Yang Chan now seemed to be missing her primary soul. Refusing to believe it, Chen Wei secretly examined his little tyrant's immortal body and divine soul.
Everything fit together perfectly. Her aura of origin matched down to the last detail, without a single flaw to suggest a counterfeit.
Only the vibrant spark she once had was missing.
Whenever Chen Wei tentatively probed for answers or deliberately said something outrageous, Yang Chan showed no anger. Instead, she looked aggrieved. "Qingquan, what's wrong? Did I do something to upset you?"
Hearing such sweet, meek words, Chen Wei inwardly cried, Impossible!
Absolutely impossible!
Had the real Third Holy Mother heard his irreverent teasing, her willow-leaf brows would have shot up, and she would have grabbed him by the ear-or brought out a huge pot of cloyingly sweet tangyuan and forced it down his throat.
When would she ever have been so humble and submissive?
The Yang Chan before him was dignified, gentle, and considerate, without a single fault to find. She was practically a model for every female immortal in the Heavenly Court.
Yet the more perfect she was, the more his hair stood on end.
Compared with this puppet-on-strings version of Yang Chan, Chen Wei missed his bossy, playful little tyrant, who would elbow him at the slightest provocation.
Chen Wei paced in desperate circles. He had to bring in reinforcements!
Using official business at the Censorate as an excuse, he hurried out, mounted an Auspicious Cloud, concealed his aura, and flew straight toward Guanjiangkou.
The Third Holy Mother had been switched out. Naturally,