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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 · Huyền huyễn
Không đủ số lượng người đọc
191 Chs

Chapter 86: What lies in Zhongnan

In the early morning, a quiet and elegant courtyard.

A young Confucian scholar with a bookcase on his back and a sword hanging from his jade belt pushed open the courtyard door and strode out.

Two naturally paired Jade Tokens at his waist jingled crisply.

The young Confucian scholar paused in front of the door, turned back to look at the familiar yard within, and through the lattice window that was visited by the moonlight every night, he could see half of the mahogany desk he was accustomed to leaning on under the moonlight.

After a few glances, with a habitual slight curve to his lips, he closed the courtyard door and turned to meet up with his companions.

Zhao Rong was not in his usual plain Confucian robe today, but instead wore a rare luxurious brocade robe, dressed exquisitely, looking from a distance like an outstandingly elegant young master.

This was what Lin Wenruo had sent someone to deliver last night, insisting he wear something more formal today.