The dream bubble dissipated, and Yue Jinghua's eyes were already filled with tears.
That was Qing Pu's dream, the simplest dream, a dream that belonged to him, a dream with a home and warmth.
"I'm sorry, I couldn't find you," Yue Jinghua murmured softly.
Suddenly, her neck itched, as if a feather was brushing against it.
Yue Jinghua looked warily behind her, and only then did she notice a luxuriantly growing Dragon Grass about three or four steps away from her.
What is this?
Yue Jinghua looked at the flourishing Dragon Grass, and at that moment, she felt a sense of being in a different lifetime.
She had never seen Dragon Grass growing so exuberantly.
The patterns, the veins, and the cracks on the leaves that resembled mouths, it was clearly a Cannibal Small Qingpu.
After Qing Pu fell, even the Cannibal Small Qingpu, which was his true form, went missing.
