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... he rows of empty cages that once housed his prized hybrids. The sterile scent of antiseptic and metal filled the air, but it did little to mask the underlying stench of loss that seemed to permeate the room. His fingers drummed absently on the cold surface of his desk as he mentally tallied the numbers.

He had called them in, every last one of them, but the faces that had gathered before him were fewer than he had hoped. His eyes scanned the room, noting the absence of many familiar face ...

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This is a peaceful village without so many disturbances.

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This peaceful village has become less peaceful,

After some years.

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After some years.

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After some years.

“This universe smells really good.”

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Jiang Xiaoxiao, the great master of the Mystic Sect, was born with an incomplete soul. Every full moon night, she would also turn into a tiny three-inch tall person.

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