277 Consciousness Infection

In the pitch-black night, a loud and clear song echoed from the uninhabited River East. It was as if all danger and difficulties would flow along with the current and disappear into the wind.

Jiang Baimian gently hummed a melody and psyched herself to optimal condition. After singing a stanza, she turned to look at Shang Jianyao and asked with a smile, "Why didn't you use the small speaker?"

"In such an environment, you have to sing this song yourself to have the feeling." The person who replied was the Shang Jianyao who strove for perfection.

He even provided an improved opinion. "It feels better when you're singing and slapping yourself on the leg."

Jiang Baimian imagined it and said, "I'll give it a try later."

In front of the shrine, Zhou Yue—who had mirrors all over her head, waist, and hands—looked at them. She felt like she didn't fit in.

"Is it really suitable to sing at a time like this?"