This book is truly difficult to serve.
Li Zhiyuan felt somewhat helpless and could only continue to suppress it for now, searching for a perfect solution later.
Just as he reached out to close the book, wobbly, feeble characters appeared on the blank page in front of him.
Weak and powerless, as if a dying elderly person, with a brush in hand, was making their final struggle.
This book was fighting for its own worth.
The crooked line of text read:
"Fengdu Twelve Laws."
Li Zhiyuan had an epiphany; he had just used the Yin Family's Twelve Skills to reseal the high heels, and there must still be some faint remnants of the technique's aura in the bedroom.
The book sensed it and then showed it off like presenting a treasured offering.
He had always felt something was off about the name of the Yin family's inherited ultimate skill; so it should have been called "Fengdu Twelve Laws."
