Volume 1, Chapter 24: Quietly Changing

Amidst loud laughter, the door swung inward. A man in his forties stepped out, his features well-defined with a straight bridge of the nose and bright, piercing eyes. His face wore a smile that was clearly genuine, unlike the superficial masks some others wore.

However, she could feel with certainty that in Ye Fei’s eyes, she was merely a friend. He would never harbor any other intentions toward her. After all, they had endured the bitter cold of winter together and even shared the same bed; she knew his heart all too well.

"Brother, to earn big money, one must first spend it. Just watch, once I finish brewing this batch of wine, I’ll earn back several 'twenty taels' for you." Before Lu Hong could finish, Lu Xiang was already calculating how much wine could be produced from the jars on the cart.

"Thank you, Your Majesty!" Shen Yu finally rose from the ground. He walked around to Chu Xiu and slowly extended the dagger he held in his palm. "Returning the jade intact to its owner." The four words carried the weight of a thousand catties—a completeness he had bought with his own life.

Duan Fufeng’s aged face flushed with shame, his dignity utterly shattered. As a mayor, to lose control over the functions of his government was nothing short of a disgrace—a stain that could never be washed away.

"Ah, a local gentleman, please forgive my lack of insight! There is indeed a merchant staying here with his family who matches your description. They are staying upstairs; I shall lead you to them," the innkeeper said hastily.

"You... you are being reckless!" Upon hearing this, Shangguan Fei stamped his foot in frustration and began to pry her hands loose from where she clutched him tightly.

Any scholar arriving in the capital for the imperial examinations who knew that the man before them was Huo Qingsong would surely step forward to exchange a few words. Even if they didn't speak, they would strive to leave a good impression on him. After all, getting to know a rising, influential official was always a boon for one's future prospects.

"Fine! Since your strength is not lacking, why not? But I wonder if our friend Yanhuo is willing?" I asked with a smile.

The "half-step crushing fist" that made the late Qing Dynasty Xingyi master Guo Yunshen famous was a product of his environment. Having accidentally killed a man and been imprisoned, he had to practice in the harsh, cramped conditions of a jail while wearing shackles. To defend himself, he developed this technique, capable of felling an attacker with a single strike.

She said nothing more, simply driving the car quietly forward. Her gaze occasionally drifted toward him. As light and shadow played across his somewhat cold features, Zhao Chuning’s thoughts surged, stirring memories of the distant past.

After the master and apprentice finished their bickering, Chen Shaohua sat by, chin in hand, watching her master—now looking entirely refreshed—busy at the typewriter. She felt a profound sense of satisfaction and comfort.

It was not yet noon, but the hundreds of acres had already been harvested, thanks to the efforts of over ten thousand people. As for the produce, it was impossible to divide it among all the students to take home; the yield from a single acre would be far too meager when split among fifty people.

Grandmother was over seventy; she passed away peacefully, free from the torment of illness. The villagers called it a "happy funeral," yet my aunts still wept.

"This is the Traditional Chinese Medicine we want to learn! Teacher Mo, you can stop trying to persuade us. We have decided; we will go to the medical office shortly to transfer to your department. If they refuse, we will take it up with the Dean." The student with the acne-ridden face ended the debate, leaving Mo Feng’s efforts in vain.

"Three strikes and you're out—please, just give me one more chance. I truly promise!" She held up both hands, her expression earnest.

Doing business in Li Town had one major difference from other places: the taxes. Of course, even imperial manors lacked the authority to tax merchants, so Zhu Houwei changed the name to "Manor Maintenance Silver." It was generally set at a rate of one-thirtieth, matching the Ming Dynasty's commercial tax, though the latter was known for its flexibility.

Just then, the door at the end of the corridor opened. Wang Ning was stepping out, but he was blocked by the two Americans.

Ye Juntian was the adopted son of the legendary Gai Tianhao, the former King of Qingzhou, back when the Gai family’s power was at its zenith.

Hongyan recalled that Consort Xian had excused herself from the banquet earlier, claiming to be unwell. She should have returned to the Jiuzhou Qingyan palace by now; why was she still out here?

Hearing the other envoys watching her, the Mysterious Envoy, despite her reluctance and the orders of her master, had to temporarily suppress her murderous intent toward Lingxin. As the Heavenly Envoy had said, once the heavens and earth collapsed, Lingxin would surely emerge, and she would have her revenge then.

Before the words had faded, Feng Yufei’s left hand struck out like lightning. Dozens of silver rays flashed, aiming straight for the faces of the Holy Son and the State Preceptor.

A moment later, a massive silver orb of light burst open. As the radiance dissipated, ripples of silver sonic waves surged outward in all directions.

"I do not wish to hear any more. Today, I have come to take you home..." the Holy Father interrupted brutally.

Back in the lower realms, Xing Yuan had been completely subdued by Lingxin. He followed her with singular devotion, doing whatever she commanded. Even now, having reached the God Realm, this remained unchanged; he would never betray her.

Naturally, the Blood River Ancestor had been on guard. The moment the blood threads were severed, they extended infinitely. However, their target was no longer Qingying, but the very origin of Lingxin’s soul. The soul was always the most fragile part, and this was an excellent opportunity to seize it.

The Taiji energy within A'Shui had reached its limit. The palm force he exerted now was the most powerful of his life. Yet, the Seven-Fingered Yama’s power continued to grow. A'Shui felt as if his chest had been struck by a giant boulder, but he gritted his teeth and struck out several more times.

This was what a truly supreme powerhouse looked like—killing invisibly with a mere wave of the hand. At such a level, one likely wouldn't even care about the mere corpse of a juvenile Green-Armored Demon Dragon.