The procession of carriages and horses wobbled its way towards the Purple Garden located outside Balibao. This was a decision made by Yixuan. At home, Dong Huiying, the household matriarch, was thrown off by the sudden appearance of a son, holding her treasured little Wuwang like a ticking time bomb, while Liang Zhichen and Liang Shuyu, those two brothers, wore indecipherable expressions. In any case, they both revealed slight smiles, clearly relishing the chaos without a care in the world.
By the time they reached Purple Garden, it was already deep into the night. Little Wuwang lay in the carriage, snoring softly. It had been a long day with many twists and turns, and while the adults were holding up, the child, even with his innate divine strength, was struggling to endure, now completely exhausted and in a deep sleep.
As the carriage came to a stop, Yixuan dismounted, intending to carry the child, but was met with a cold glare from the wife, glaring at him fiercely.
