Chapter 131: Trapped Within the Scheme, Part 11

Breathing grew rapid and shallow, her whole being lunging at Zhao Yiya as if possessed, her voice wild with rage: “It’s all your fault! If it weren’t for you, Qing Yu wouldn’t have died, Qing Yu wouldn’t have died!”

Zhao Yiya, her throat grasped tightly, pushed desperately against Mo Qinghan. Seeing Mo Qinghan clawing at Zhao Yiya like a madwoman, Zhao Xuer hurriedly pulled Mo Qinghan aside with force, shouting, “Help! Somebody’s gone mad, someone’s lost their mind!”

Seated nearby, He Xuanyi saw his chance and rose to head towards the door. Just as he reached it, the door suddenly swung open, startling him into freezing in place. He stood there stunned for a long moment before regaining his composure.

It was He Zhe who had entered.

Over the past month, his blood had been endlessly shed and renewed, his flesh repeatedly broken down and restored; his spiritual power continually depleted and replenished. The number of times his body had undergone this rigorous forging far surpassed the total of his two past lives combined.

At this moment, Ning Qinshan, clad in a white wedding gown, stood beside Fu Zheng in a black suit. Together, they looked remarkably like a perfect pair.

“Don’t worry, just go after them. Don’t mind me!” Xiao Yan tossed the Swift Wind forward. Seeing this, Swift Wind could only press onward.

Lin Ye, half in a daze, grasped the truth of it all, though it wasn’t quite what he had imagined.

Though most of the force was absorbed by the armor, the residual energy still seeped through, causing a fierce, burning sting deep in his lungs.

Looking at the cruel face trembling before her, Ruo Lan’s mood lifted tremendously. She bore no blame—who would be polite when provoked?

The Northern Border restaurant had a distinct charm, specializing in Xinjiang’s signature dishes: big plate chicken, roasted lamb leg, barley wine, and horse milk tea. The decor embraced exotic flair, allowing city dwellers to savor the flavors of the ethnic minorities.

“Mei’er, Xuan’er, come with me. I’ll explain everything on the way,” Ruo Lan said, seeing the puzzled expressions on the two girls’ faces. Unwilling to waste time, she recounted the events as they traveled.

In ancient times, the Jade Corpse King was known as the Jade Daoist, the foremost prodigy of the Spirit Sword Sect, the youngest senior elder, and a top-tier expert nearly reaching the Immortal Lord realm. He had slaughtered countless cultivators from the Dao, Demon, and Monster sects, harboring a merciless heart.

Xu Wen sneered coldly. Suddenly, the Nine Winds Coiling Dragon Pillar erupted, merging the power of nine dragons with the phantom of the Celestial Pillar. Xu Wen produced a stone seal, unleashing nine ancient fire dragon spirits with furious roars. The combined strike of the Nine Winds Coiling Dragon Pillar thundered down upon Liu Fang’s long spear.

Zhao Yang showed no trace of shock or panic, standing quietly without a hint of forced composure.

Setting that aside, the training of the Bao Ling and Bao Zhu twins had just begun their indoctrination. Previously, they had been learning Japanese, and no signs were yet apparent. It would take at least two years.

A thousand miles of mountains and rivers—without magical restrictions, for cultivators who soared on the wind, such scenery was hardly worth noting.

Ming Jing clearly understood the purpose of the food, saying with slight embarrassment, “She doesn’t mind the trouble.” Still, she obediently took it and began eating heartily.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go to the Yellow Earth, but if even his only kin beneath that tombstone descended there, who would come to offer incense, wine, and kneel in respect?

Six knights wore solemn expressions, six resounding replies silencing Count Abraham’s long-pondered accusations. Seeing the unwavering determination in their eyes, his efforts to persuade them in vain, the count’s mood brightened instead.

Though the price couldn’t be so high, it wouldn’t be low either. After all, this wasn’t cheap produce; a dozen or so entering the market wouldn’t make much of a splash.

The song lasted five minutes and thirty-three seconds, its gentle and lyrical style lacking much variation. Many found it too plain and dragging, but a few especially loved it, sensing a deep artistic conception within.

“Xia Ya, doesn’t Weiss have a prophetic fish? Let’s have it predict the future,” Xi Ling suggested, recalling the prophetic fish at Weiss’s place.