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My Wife Is A Sword Immortal

Upon opening his eyes, there before him was a bridal chamber adorned with red candles and windows. A bride dressed in a phoenix coronet and robes of rank sat upright on the nuptial bed, her face covered by a red bridal veil. Zhao Rong rubbed his sleepy eyes, "Have I become a groom? Oh, and a junior one at that." Understood. His facial expression brewed for a moment before he twisted his mouth into a smile, "Wait a second..." Huh, something's amiss. The bride is my childhood sweetheart who also harbored a crush on me? Oh, then that's alright. This is very fitting. Zhao Rong stepped forward, happily lifting the red bridal veil, "Hey hey, my lady, where are you running off to?" ------------- In the great era of contention, the tide of the times surged forth, and Confucian Scholar Zhao Rong bravely faced it head-on. Not only did he seek to catch up to the footsteps of his childhood sweetheart turned Sword Immortal Lady, but he also wished to witness firsthand the dispute that engulfed more than half of the Cultivation World, the strife among the various schools of thought... ————— [Slow-burn], [Non-cliché], [Non-level-up], [Romance plot], [Sweet without the angst] This book is also known as "I Have a Fox Fairy Wife", "Rebirth: I Deliver Parcels in the Otherworld", "Zhao Ziyu, The Smirking Scholar" "I Really Don't Want to Be a Kept Man"...

Yang Xiaorong · ตะวันออก
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195 Chs

Chapter 66: Acting and Non-Acting

The next day, at the second watch of the morning.

Zhao Rong got up, washed up, and after many busy days, he finally slept soundly. Although he was still worried about the Kui Bull Demon Pill Furnace Core which had been lost who knows where, he also faintly understood that this matter could only be left to fate.

He resumed his morning routine of practice and study, which he had abandoned for a few days, bathing in the first light of dawn, he walked to the woods one hundred and eighty steps behind the courtyard.

A thin mist slowly made its way through the gaps in the thick woods, and countless particles meandered leisurely in the beams of golden morning light leaking through the gaps in the leaves.

Zhao Rong completed the three hundred fist stances from the "Mountain Carrying Volume" in his lazy clothes, feeling no movement of Innate Primordial Qi within his body, he shook his head with a bitter smile, not knowing when he would find that vital Qi.