In the front hall, Xuan Ling was lying on the Arhat couch, holding a book in his hand, but he couldn't read a single word.

Looking at the burned hands, I muttered in my heart:

"Stinky girl, why don't you come out and coax me? I'm just too good to her, she's forgotten to fight for my favor. Shouldn't she be crawling onto the bed and snuggling into my arms? That way I'll calm down."

The two of them cursed each other and fell asleep.

In the Hall of Mental Cultivation, candlelight flickered.

The emperor's handsome face gradually frowned, as if he had fallen into a deep dream.

In the dream, clouds and mist rolled, and the sky and the earth were in chaos.

Emperor Xuanxi was holding a long sword, leading the gods and immortals in a fierce battle with the army of demons.

Amidst the flashing of swords and the shadow of knives, his figure was as awe-inspiring as a god, and his brows were full of majesty and coldness.

Suddenly, a flash of inspiration came to Xuan Xi. He counted with his fingers and frowned slightly: "The peony flower is going to transform?"

His mind moved, and a wisp of spiritual consciousness left his body, instantly traveling thousands of miles and arriving at the garden of Zi Xi Tian Palace.

The peony flower was struggling to transform. A flushed little face appeared on the pistil. A childish voice was filled with stubbornness: "I must transform! I must transform!"

However, her spiritual power was insufficient, and the path to transformation was extremely difficult.

Xuan Xi stood in the clouds, his eyes deep, and whispered, "Forcing a transformation is like forcing something to grow too fast, and it will only end in ashes. Well, I will help you."

He raised his hand and waved it, and a stream of pure spiritual power was transmitted into the peony flower.

At this moment, a demonic energy suddenly attacked and headed straight for Xuanxi's chest.

The White Tiger Star Lord hurriedly stood in front of him and shouted, "Emperor, be careful!"