Guided by Zhou Dao's warning, the Hong family's two remaining children were the only chance to avert the catastrophe of their clan's annihilation. How could he not take it seriously?
"I understand."
The middle-aged steward nodded heavily and slowly backed out of the room.
At this moment, above the Nielong River, Taoist Duobao stood respectfully behind Zhou Dao and couldn't help but look up at the celestial phenomena.
"Do you have something to say?" Zhou Dao whispered.
"I've observed changes in the fate of Pingjiang City. In the coming hundred years, people surnamed Hong will take control here, and the Long Family is bound to be slaughtered." Taoist Duobao whispered back.
"You see well," Zhou Dao nodded. "With my reminder today, the Long Family may keep their lineage's incense burning."
The cosmic torrent, the threads of destiny and causality, all have their predetermined paths.
