lt;The Pocket Dimens

At this time, the grand house of the Yan family, built with blue bricks and covered in red tiles, was filled with the aroma of cooking. Smoke rose from its kitchen chimneys as two maidservants and a matron bustled about preparing meals for their masters.,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.,Chen Dahui let out a cold snort and kicked the sodden Nian on the ground. "This bad omen is probably pretending to be dead, Erhe, Sanhe, keep beating him."。