Chapter 58

Ling Qingluo’s heart fluttered with anxiety, but before she could say another word, his caresses set her whole body alight.

Rintian Yumi watched his departing figure and, unexpectedly, felt moved. He had only one umbrella, yet he gave it to her. Perhaps, she thought, he wasn’t so bad after all—maybe he was simply a bit severe in his work ethic.

In certain situations, the blood within him could be triggered to display miraculous effects; however, the current reaction was faint, not nearly enough to induce another transformation.

In truth, Bai Xinghe’s power was by no means inferior to that of Lan Junxie, a fact Lan was well aware of.

If his only aim were to make money, the comics he was drawing now would suffice. What he truly sought was to be “deified”—to attain fame and break through the confines of his circle, just as Wu Qing had done.

“Captain, what’s this?” Tao Siqi was slurping a freshly made bowl of instant noodles. When Cen Qianshan appeared suddenly, she hurried to hide the bowl, but her hasty movements sent the broth splattering onto her chest.

Words aside, with them so close, he couldn’t resist—he flicked out his tongue and licked Nan Shu’s slender, fair neck.

“I’ve already submitted the application for the demon fox to sleep with you tonight. He looked absolutely livid—ha!” Chunyu Youyou burst out laughing, unable to contain herself.

But that wasn’t the end—having finished putting on airs, Xuzhu made way for Qiao Feng and Duan Yu. By some twist of fate, the three brothers all gathered at Shaolin Temple. At the same time, heroes from every corner of the martial world converged there.

“That’s true. This must be something only the upper echelons of the Department of Ancestral Affairs have access to. What is their view of the current situation? What do they intend to do? Surely by now, the Department can no longer tolerate those who manipulate power for their own gain, can they?” Chang Xing inquired.

Zhang San intended to divide the twenty children into four teams; their training and war games would be conducted as competitions between these teams. Aside from his own instruction, Zhang San would continually rotate their leaders, giving them the chance to learn from a variety of teachers.

Because it was her, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of tenderness; because it was it, he… The severity of the so-called double regulation was, in truth, merely a matter of endurance for her sake.

Silence spread through the empty room, making the old man’s labored breathing all the more distinct and desolate—a sound filled with the helplessness of a hero in decline.

Amid the host’s rousing introduction, Qin Han ascended the podium in a blaze of applause and spotlights.

The Old Smoker, using the cold of Jingzhou as a pretext—and the excuse that he hadn’t spoken with Chen Yi for some days—came to Magic City to visit him. Of course, he had also received a report from the local prosecutor’s office: Chen Yi, head of Group Nine, hadn’t shown up at work and seemed absent-minded, as if possessed or out of his wits.

Chen Yi swore that if given the choice between being a boss and a wandering hero, he’d rather choose the latter. He had finally realized that there was no end to the money one could make in this world.

Gu Mo spat out another mouthful of blood, forcing lightning from within his body. Blood poured from his lips—a figure battered and gravely wounded.

Song Guyan seemed to understand what Dou Nai Fen meant and did not object. The girl was indeed adorable, but if she talked too much, no matter how pretty she was, she would become tiresome.

Qin Laosan’s game parlor offered far more than mahjong; upstairs were all kinds of gambling machines, and sometimes he organized big events. Otherwise, the table fees from mahjong alone could hardly sustain his comfortable lifestyle.

As the flames were pierced, Yin Mo felt a chill in her heart. She summoned her spiritual power again, manifesting a giant hand in the air. The fist crashed down with a whistling wind, shattering the ancient tree’s branches and leaves and colliding head-on with the purple blade.

With a low, resonant voice, Zhu Yunli recounted the tale of the Phoenix Queen and Bai Ze. Deep in the Kunlun Mountains where no one set foot, frozen clouds drifted slowly across the sky, and the river’s pure water turned to ice. Yet amid the rising mists and the jade-like scenery, the flower of familial love once bloomed in full splendor.

“Heh, it’s inevitable that there’s a bit of roughhousing in the army, but that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It helps cultivate the warriors’ spirit. As long as no one dies, you needn’t worry about the rest!” Zhao Yan said with a smile, completely unconcerned about the prospect of conflict among the soldiers.

Several shadow assassins of pseudo-emperor rank, who were swiftly approaching the Pangu tribe’s chief, suddenly felt their souls shudder and froze in place.

Zhu Yuyuan nodded and followed him into the tavern. There weren’t many people inside; the old innkeeper was calm, his hair and beard white as snow. After Mu Qinglin exchanged greetings with him, the innkeeper said nothing more, simply leading the two upstairs to a quiet room.

“Senior, I am a descendant of the Demon Clan’s ten royal families… Your sacrificial technique is so extraordinary, you must be one of our kin, right?” Elder Chi, his voice trembling with fear, tried desperately to claim kinship—he truly did not want to die.

As he spoke, a lady in a flower-embroidered jade-green crêpe dress entered the room. She appeared to be around thirty-four or thirty-five, her beauty exuding a mature charm in every gesture. She entered with a smile, showing no sign of reproach that Lady Huan had not risen to greet her.

“This isn’t as you imagine,” Long Jiaoyang said to Tianzhu Zhuoma, hoping to explain. “It was an accident.”