Mystic Clan of the P

Below sat a small patch of straw-thatched huts and vast fields of rice.,Remembering the past silently, Lu Jiangxian had a splitting headache. All he could recall was himself collapsing on his bed, weak and drained. The smoke from his rental room and the neon lights flickered around him.,Until the moon moved to the top of the trees, its clear light gently floated on the river surface. Lu Jiangxian was delighted to feel a refreshing coolness seeping into the riverbed, bringing a sense of comfort.。