Meanwhile, Lin Huahua was still glaring at Mu Qingyi with her hands on her hips.
Her little white rat tail had begun flicking behind her in annoyance, and her small pink lips were pressed into a pout that only made her look more like an angry dumpling than a fearsome princess.
"You are not going anywhere," she declared. "It is already dark, and we already have food. So why are you all acting as if I am dying of hunger and need ten beasts to run around the whole world for me?"
Mu Qingyi stared at her, then blinked once as if he needed that one blink to confirm he had heard her correctly.
Feng Yiren watched this scene and felt something in his heart quietly loosen.
Only a little.
Very little.
He was still not the type to trust easily, and he was even less the type to admit when his thinking might have been too harsh. Still, the fact remained that if this had been the old Lin Huahua, Mu Qingyi would have already been halfway to another tribe by now.
But now?
