He casually tossed the compressed energy core into the massive iron wok he was carrying, adding it to the growing pile of loot they had acquired.
'She thinks I am a stranger,' Zechuan thought, a soft, indulgent smile returning to his lips. 'She thinks I am an airhead, and treats me with such suspicious irritation. And yet... she still feeds me well, ensuring I do not trip over the roots. It seems the one who changed is me, not her...'
The relief of seeing her thriving, of tasting the food she had cooked with her own two hands, was a balm that completely healed the lingering scars of the abyss.
He was having the time of his life.
He would gladly carry her heavy iron pans for the next thousand years if it meant he could simply walk two steps behind her and ensure nothing in the universe ever harmed her again.
"Ha! Gotcha!"
Ji'an's triumphant shout snapped Zechuan out of his melancholic reminiscing.
