lt;The Pocket Dimens

At the village's edge, in a dilapidated grass temple, a woman with washed-out clothes patched countless times stood behind the stove, wielding a chipped spatula.,The thin young man was beaten, his head bloodied. He lay on the ground, curled up, clutching his head and trembling violently.,Yan Xiaoshi closed his eyes, sighing that even being a ghost was hard work. Suddenly, with no warning, a flurry of punches and kicks landed on him. This time, the pain was very clear.。