PS: Brimming with joy, we pass into the New Year, hail the New Year, and vainly add another year to our age. How many years can this floating life last? This year? Next year? Pray tell, in which year will good health return? To the sorrowful, each day lasts a year.
Coughing up phlegm ruins peaceful sleep. They call it the New Year, yet the New Year has only just passed, and the whole family has tested negative for only a few days. With spirits idle, I keep company with the lamp; spring lies beside sorrow, and people amid antigen tests. Wrapped in a quilt, I idly play pipes and strings.
The mining adventurers had suffered heavy losses.
Seven had died outright, and every survivor was injured. Of the seven dead, five were lesser cultivators and two were Profound Connection Realm cultivators, accounting for thirty percent of the adventurers' total number.
With no sign of their leader, the three were burning with anxiety. Nan Xiangye grabbed Wang Gandang, who lay half-collapsed on the ground, and demanded sharply:
"Where's my senior brother? What happened here? How did these undead creatures die?"
Wang Gandang stretched his lips, forcing out a smile uglier than tears. "I don't know! Everything descended into chaos as soon as the exalted immortal arrived... After that, we didn't know where he went either. Perhaps he went after the undead creatures that slipped through the net? Sorry, it was too chaotic at the time. We truly had no attention to spare for anything else."
Fairy Huang tugged at Nan Xiangye, reminding him to mind his tone and manner, then spoke pleasantly herself:
"Don't panic, Daoist Friend Wang. Now that we're here, you're safe. Settle your nerves first, then tell us the important details of what happened. Don't leave anything