On the stage of this Fantasy World, a scene burst before everyone's eyes like a sudden clap of thunder. Its absurdity was so bizarre that the few people behind looked as though they had been bound by some ancient, mysterious spell, instantly freezing in their tracks as if turned into soulless stone statues. Their eyes were wide, filled to the core with an entrenched astonishment—an instinctive reaction to the complete subversion of common sense. This shock rolled over their defenses wave after wave, plunging their minds into a chaos akin to the dawn of creation, as if their entire worldview had been ruthlessly crushed by a giant hand in that split second and reduced to fine powder drifting in a fierce wind.
Amidst this stunned crowd stood a Young Maiden. Like a delicate flower trembling in the wind, her gaze locked onto the figure of Du Bufan, interwoven with countless threads of emotion. Beyond the overwhelming shock, a different kind of feeling—like tender grass in early spring—was quietly sprouting and spreading in the softest part of her heart. This sentiment swept across her heartstrings like an invisible hand, playing a melodious and mysterious tune that sent layer upon layer of endless ripples across the lake of her heart, each ripple bearing an unspoken emotion.
"Fifth Uncle, am... am I still dreaming?" A youth's lips trembled slightly as he managed to squeeze these words out. His voice sounded as though it came from the distant edge of a dream, carrying a touch of …
Chapter 22