Chapter Sixty-Four: The Missing Woman (Part One)

Beside him, Yang Yuanyi also wore a helpless expression and shook his head, saying, “Today, Cao Sirang was truly in a foul mood. He somehow found out about Lady Liu’s box and kept pestering us, asking whether Lady Liu really kept many things given to her by other men, and whether she was still entangled with them. As for the questions we asked him, he simply had no mind to answer.”

Although, after Yang’s persistent questioning, they did eventually get their answers.

During all this, Feng Yin watched quietly from the side, her heart a tangled mess, deeply uneasy.

Xu Tian activated the Starry Bloodline, golden divine light weaving and swirling around him, as if countless stars emerged and floated by his side. He appeared incredibly spirited and imposing, transformed into a golden war god.

The journey was not peaceful. Besides the occasional sandstorms, they needed a sturdy tent to shelter them from the wind and sand at night. As for heavy cotton clothing, that was unnecessary—everyone present was a master of martial arts with deep inner strength, unafraid of the cold.

On the road, they did not encounter any spirits or monsters. Perhaps these creatures had grown clever and learned to hide; or perhaps Jiang Duanliu’s worries were entirely unfounded.

After a moment, a voice rang out. Through the thick smoke, two figures stood. Then, Wang Bugui waved his hand and scattered all the dust and smoke, and at last, the crowd could see clearly.

“Woof.” Huck waved his paw in displeasure, then lay back down and closed his eyes.

Deep down, Bing Lan was unwilling to leave first—she was too afraid of losing Su Mu. She felt that if she turned away, her dearest confidant, the person who understood her best, would vanish.

“You should be able to sense where that thing is.” The group exchanged glances, and Bai Ling, who had been following Zuo Danyang, spoke up suddenly.

Jiang Yin’s demonic body was forged by Wu Yun through the pure refinement of demonic energy and the absorption of malice—a pure demonic form. Qin Mojun’s demonic body, however, was a Blood Demon body, cultivated through the Heaven-Stealing Blood Demon Technique, drawing on murderous intent and stolen blood essence. Such a thing—well, so long as it doesn’t see blood, it’s fine; but once blood is shed, it goes mad.

The Dharma figure pounded its chest and stomped its feet, wailing wildly as it commanded the Embroidered Uniform Guards to kill Ma Wanli. Amidst the flashing blades and swords, snow whirled furiously, descending in sheets. In that moment, phenomena erupted around Ma Wanli, but with death looming, he showed no fear. Surrounded as he was, he held fast to a resolve to die.

Delay would only breed disaster. Zhao San advanced slowly with his knife, ready to stab if they did not comply, when Wang Shouyi strode forward and placed himself between them.

Rhinoceros horn is powerfully cold in nature. In ancient times, when medical knowledge was limited, it was an excellent remedy for fevers. Moreover, it could be carved into ornaments and, because of its rarity, became a symbol of status for the powerful. Excessive hunting and harvesting of horns led to the extinction of the Asian rhinoceros within China by the late Ming and early Qing dynasties.

Meng Guan and Wei Xun’s mutual appreciation had long been known to all, concerning two outstanding films—a topic already widely discussed.

At this moment, Feng Xiaoyou, lying on the bed, fluttered her eyelashes and slowly opened her eyes. When she saw the crowd gathered around her bedside, she was so startled that she tumbled off the bed onto the floor.

She stood by Su Qinghuang’s side so simply, leaning slightly, her expression neither flushed nor pale, neither awkward nor composed, and she did not speak. She just watched Li Xianyan, a faint smile on her lips—saying nothing, yet expressing more than a thousand words.

“I’ve never seen such a foolish soldier,” commented Xue Changyi, who was coaching his squad in swordplay nearby. Seeing Su Qinghuang approach, he could not help but complain.

Qiao Chengcheng met his gaze for a few seconds, then found herself unable to withstand it. His eyes held not the slightest guilt, but rather a cold indifference that made people afraid to look directly, carrying an inexplicable, convincing power.

Suddenly, the cart’s wheel got stuck in a roadside ditch. The old man used all his strength but could not pull it out.

Ren Qingxian shot to her feet, her eyes wide and trembling, staring at Ye Qing in disbelief, unable to look away.

Emperor Jiacheng’s grand mobilization was meant to display imperial might and give the Embroidered Uniform Guards a legitimate reason to appear. If something went wrong and the effort failed, it would certainly incur the emperor’s wrath.

This battle was, without exaggeration, the most brilliant example of aerial combat in history. Perhaps none would surpass it, but certainly none had come before.

In the forward trenches, the “Hundred Kill Company”—including Hong Yushi and others—had long been waiting. As soon as they saw the enemy attempting to rescue the “Fire Man,” a hundred snipers fired in unison.

After receiving a call from Kaminoe, Hanyu went to ask Sagu about the situation. Finding nothing amiss, he went downstairs to take a shower.

However, the game was not over, and as long as the basketball was round, no one could say for certain that victory was in hand.

But this time, she felt Jiang Chengxun had gone too far. Not only did he fool around outside, he didn’t bother to cover his tracks, leaving a lipstick mark behind just to humiliate her?

The Prince of Yama fought against the ministers of the Great Yi Sacred Dynasty while keeping an eye on the battlefield situation. Seeing his subordinates slaughtered one after another, he was both anxious and angry, but the ministers clung to him like glue, leaving him no choice but to focus on fending off their attacks.

Only Xue Tingzhang seemed not to hear a word, nor did he look at them. Instead, he gazed toward the street corner, murmuring to himself about why they hadn’t arrived yet.

A saccharine voice drifted into Fu Tiantian’s ear. She couldn’t help but dig at her ear, feeling as though a bug had crawled in.

Yang Yu, upon hearing this, was furious. He waited for his chance, then rushed out and swung his Tang saber at the enemy soldier.

No one knew exactly what was happening, but all were vaguely guided by unseen hands.

Lan Ze slipped his hand under An’an’s back. The warm, delicate skin made him reluctant to let go, marveling at how soft the little one’s skin was.

The guests who arrived early were all taken aback by the impressive names of those who followed.

D-Park’s Zhongjing Club was bustling. Finalist students from across the country, as well as their instructors, had already arrived early. Their seats were off to the side, either on the farthest floors or tucked in corners—the best spots were reserved for distinguished guests.

Yuan Hua rose and walked over, pinching Hong Luan’s clothing with two fingers, precisely grasping the one sleeve that was still intact. “See? This part is fine.” As she spoke, she glanced at Hong Luan and suddenly tugged hard at the sleeve, but it did not tear.

Whenever she felt nervous and didn’t want to confide in those close to her, she would subconsciously twist the hem of her clothes—a habit she’d had since childhood. After entering the palace, she’d never been so uneasy, nor so unwilling to speak to Gu Anping.