Seventy Prisoners - Ten

“If I’m not mistaken, Murong has yet to marry. Even if your eldest sister is soon to marry into Murong Manor as the young mistress, that can only happen after she becomes Murong Lingxiang’s wife. For now, Murong Lingxiang is the master here, and you and I are both guests, nothing more,” Chu Lixue said calmly.

Tears slid once more from Jian Yang’s eyes as she closed them, the pain piercing straight to her heart. She no longer had the strength to concern herself with anything her partner might say.

So even if she had stabbed him again, blood gushing forth, he had to come and ask her himself—Li Qiyu, was it really you who did this? Why?

Gradually, Jun Moli sensed something unusual happening within his body. Instantly, a blush crept up the cheeks of this dignified man, seven feet tall. When he looked at Xi Lan, his eyes grew more and more ambiguous.

Ye Feng lay on the grass bed, pondering his strange ability. At present, the electricity he could generate was weak, but sufficient to control electronic devices.

Moreover, she must have told her master that she had developed an antidote pill for the emperor, but since the other side didn’t have the formula, they wouldn’t know which poisons the pill could or could not cure.

She then tossed the imperial edict that Xi Qiao had placed under Lady Qing’s pillow at Lady Qing’s feet. Lady Qing hurriedly picked it up and began to read.

“Wear this always. Never take it off. I want to see it every day and remember… the decision I made.” Bo Yeyuan’s gaze was strange, as if he was utterly exhausted. He closed his eyes heavily, and as blood slowly returned to his veins, a chill shook his body.

“Pause the execution for now. I’ll go to the palace and beg His Majesty for a pardon.” Prince Chen’s voice was low and resolute.

But everything that was meant to happen had already occurred. No one could change the past. The woman who had traveled here no longer carried a trace of Chu Shaoyang in her heart, and the original soul that had loved him so deeply was long gone.

As expected, Princess Minghui smiled and praised Lady Han Six gently, and did not object to Lady Han’s suggestion that her daughter serve her tea.

The petrified ministers immediately asked urgently, their eyes once again glowing with hope, as if they had finally found a lifeline.

Song Yanzhao looked at her with deep tenderness, making the maids behind them, Yingniang and Hongshao, both lower their heads and laugh softly.

The wild boar, however, seemed enraged by Nan Zhiqiao’s shout, turning and charging straight toward her.

Judging by the state of the two men, their injuries were clearly grave. When Stammering Immortal dragged them over to me, neither could stand up from the makeshift stretcher on their own.

At this, Niu Degui summoned his courage, quietly grabbed his homemade gun, and aimed straight at the snake’s head before firing.

According to the rules of this competition, everyone had to stand on a jade disc of about ten square meters. At most, twenty people could fit; any more and they would fall into the raging river below.

The refugees went mad at once—they were hungry, exhausted, wounded, and all along had believed that once they reached Chengdu Prefecture, they would find hot food, water, and rest. That hope had kept them going, only to be told at the gate that they were not allowed into the city.

Looking again at the three combined fierce beasts, they had only managed to break through less than half the restrictions; the barrier had only dimmed a little. The two said nothing more, simply followed the others into the wooden house. Since everyone was waiting for them to choose their treasures first, it would be rude to keep the elders waiting any longer.

Long Yicheng walked over to Gu Qinghan, bent slightly to whisper in her ear, making her squirm from the ticklish sensation.

“What are we waiting for? Go interrogate him directly,” Yun Muning stood up abruptly, grumbling and cursing.

“Forget it, it’s not worth it. For someone so hopeless, we’d be wasting our time. Come with me, I’ll make sure you win,” Liang Feng said with a welcoming smile to Fan Meijing, looking every bit the loyal follower.

Mo Jinxuan’s words threw Mo Yuxiao into contemplation. Reflecting on the past, he realized he had never truly regarded Mo Jinxuan as a real brother, which was why Mo Jinxuan was now mercilessly pulling him down. He could only blame himself for tasting the fruit he had sown, though he felt deeply unwilling.

Cheng Luoxuan thought to herself: Why does this remind me so much of Gu Yilin’s cold indifference when we first met?

The power of the Zhao family from the Myriad Laws Immortal Sect and the Tuoba family was renowned, not just on this continent, but even across the other lands scattered throughout the Endless Bitter Sea.

Jiang Zichu lay staring at the canopy above his bed, where exquisite embroidery wound its way into several blooming peonies, a style unmistakably characteristic of Yuanwei.

Chen Dawei was dumbfounded. In another twenty or thirty years, wouldn’t Wei Libiao become some immortal old monster over a hundred years old? If so, he would never get his revenge.

“Where did you and Daxiong go this morning? Didn’t we agree to go bungee jumping yesterday? I called you all morning and you never answered, you liar,” Fang Yuan said angrily, her expression making it clear she was truly upset.

“I’ve had you test my medicine for so many years. Is there any problem if you don’t drink it for a few days?” Ming Ye raised an eyebrow and shot Zhu Long a glare.

We were late the whole day. By the time we finally headed back, it was already dark, but Brother Wan didn’t take us home; instead, he took us to a sushi restaurant.

The older the ginger, the spicier it is. Without real skill, who would dare meddle in delicate affairs? The boss didn’t earn his position for nothing. With a single remark, he left Xifan and the others speechless, and the situation was instantly reversed.

Linghu Li glanced at the so-called Nirvana Scented Forest, smiled faintly, then turned to look at Gao Xie, who had been silent the whole way, and gave him a meaningful look.

Each of them filled a bowl with soup and meat, tasted it, and found it truly delicious—smooth, refreshing, and wonderfully warming.

The newcomer was a burly middle-aged man with neatly trimmed facial hair and a stern, unsmiling expression that made him seem all the more imposing and hard to refuse.

Liu Qichao suddenly realized something. Back at Tiansu Temple, he had faintly seen Zhai Dejun enter the meditation room of Master Miaoxiang late at night. Now, he thought, perhaps it had really happened and wasn’t just his imagination.