Hao imagined a swarm of bees storming down from above, wrapped in golden fury.
The Sovereign City would be doomed!
Total annihilation.
Flash sale of death.
No refunds.
And no one would even know why they were dying - just that everything suddenly smelled like flowers and burning honey.
He sucked in a deep breath.
Hao turned and looked at Old Tiger Zhao, who was rubbing his back, still rambling about the time he barely escaped the bees.
The man had definitely survived something.
But it sure wasn't that.
There was no way Hao was going to tell the old man that the bees he fought were basically just a Temu version of it.
Might as well let Old Tiger Zhao keep his glorious near-death memory.
While the old man continued talking to Lin Yijun's group, Hao stand quietly at the counter.
Back straight. Eyes closed.
He was cultivating now.
Not aimlessly waiting for customers like some store mascot.
Progress.
That was what this was.
Definitely not coping.
