Returning to the Divine Palace felt as though they had stepped back into the past. Yan Luoluo would still doze off secretly during morning classes, splashing ink everywhere; Míngxuān remained the nagging mother-figure, scolding her for lacking diligence while quietly cleaning up her messes; and Qīnglín forever wore that spectator's smile, stirring up trouble every now and then. Xingyuan stood by handing over melon seeds, watching the show from the sidelines. As for Yún, he still hid in the shadows like a puppy afraid of the light—though his tongue remained as sharp as ever, was this not simply who he was?
Yet this peace felt like a deceptive calm before a storm, leaving a faint unease in their hearts.
Until that day—
A earth-shattering dragon roar echoed from the Xuānyuán Abyss in the East Sea, shaking the entire Divine Palace. An urgent dispatch from the Crystal Palace was stained with deep blue dragon blood, the handwriting so scrawled it was nearly illegible:
Chapter 62