The Source of the Threat

"Is that fellow gone?"

At the entrance of the Thousand Autumn Hall, Zhu Youniang stuck her head out while hanging upside down. Her beautiful hair fluttered in the wind as she sized up Feng Xia curiously in the hall.

"He just left." Feng Xia nodded slightly and smiled. "It's a pity that he's not willing to stay for a while longer. Otherwise, I could get another 2,000 pounds of paper…"

Even the storerooms of the Thousand Autumn Valley did not contain 2,000 pounds of paper at the moment.

However, it did not matter. How could it be inconvenient for divine beings to make paper?

Whatever Mo Zi'an could do, Feng Xia would be able to do even more.

Unfortunately, Mo Zi'an did not manage to make it to the end.

He wrote madly for six consecutive days and nights. Feng Xia also asked him all kinds of tricky questions, especially things that he had never heard of. It completely exhausted his wisdom and mental strength.