Volume One, Chapter 59: My Name is Zhang Weidong

At this sensitive time, the eldest prince dared not declare himself emperor. He had already been battered and bruised over the Mu family affair. The Mu family had served the royal house for centuries, and both nobles and commoners alike believed it unthinkable for them to commit treason. One voice of dissent after another arose.

Su Feng, oblivious to Yun Feiyu’s thoughts, continued to persuade him to join the alliance of ten factions seeking revenge, speaking so insistently that Yun Feiyu grew restless. His expression suddenly darkened and a murderous aura emanated from him, making Su Feng shiver with an icy dread. Seeing the cold look in Yun Feiyu’s eyes, Su Feng dared not say another word.

Fang Junhou had no time to think. For the first time in his life, he cursed under his breath, quickly tossing aside the fireworks and fire-lance.

“Brother Li, what do you mean by that?” Yan Mingjun, unwilling to make an enemy of Li Nai over this, hastened to accept the gift.

Disrupting their formation might reveal something elsewhere, perhaps exposing other accomplices.

A cultivator’s treasured longsword flew from his grasp, expanding to several meters as it soared beneath the pelican, slicing straight for the bird’s belly.

Now that enemies met face to face, the hatred was all the more intense. Jun Hao wished nothing more than to grind Jiang Sinan’s bones to dust to vent his rage.

The king, in a fury, stared at the distant mountain peaks shrouded in storm clouds and lightning, seething with anger.

“So, does that mean all the strongest of the Golden Dragon clan can no longer remain here?” Lin Xuan deftly steered the conversation back to the Golden Dragons.

A mountain of wealth, seventy thousand head of livestock—what spoils of war! These trophies were enough to offset all the military expenses Tao Shang had incurred in his campaign against Liao.

Shuimai stood in the doorway, lost and despondent. Chu Tiankuo’s frantic pounding at the door, his anxious demeanor, left her dazed. He, who had always been so courteous and composed, had actually done such a thing.

She hated her own helplessness. Now, all she could do was glare at Ji Zheng with eyes brimming with bitter resentment.

The young lady’s moods were mercurial—sunny one moment, clouded the next. Now she simply didn’t want any pastries; there was nothing more to be said.

Only Tuoba Feng remained where he was, quietly watching Rong Xi, lost in his own thoughts.

After several failed attempts to channel his power, his once-calm heart was gradually filled with panic and unease. He gasped for breath, sweat pouring down his body. Despondent and disheartened, he lay back on the ground, staring at the sky.

Jian Hong glanced at her, gave a slight nod, then leaned once more against the tree and closed his eyes.

Only now did Leng Yan realize that no matter how many generations had passed, the Ninth Princess’s features remained the same, with only her adornments and attire changed.

With cracked lips, Qiao’er managed a faint smile, moving closer to Luo Chenxing, stubbornly holding the umbrella over her head to shield her from the sun before resuming her fanning.

Even the spiritual power of a mighty figure like Lord Yiyang could not alter the fate Meng Po had already chosen.

Zhang Zhaodong, cleaved in two, dissolved into a sea of blood and vanished without a trace.

This was the true challenge Ling Qingyun faced: their brilliance was fated, their talents peerless. To compete with or even defeat them was nearly impossible; the only option was to keep accumulating advantages and grow stronger as swiftly as possible.

Though the maids were shocked, years at the palace had taught them to conceal their emotions.

“Excuse me, could you show me your medical records and test results?” Qi Miaoxian pressed on, refusing to give up. He hoped it might prove a misdiagnosis rather than the dreaded frozen syndrome.

With the energy signatures of Bai Yue and Vegeta as guides, the Dragon Ball warriors took to the skies toward the Arctic, gathering in that frigid land.

Hearing this, Lu Can’s temples throbbed fiercely. Wasn’t that the sort of thing men said when flirting? Had she really beaten him to it, using a typical man’s line?

Jiraiya opened the message to find a silly cartoon avatar—her husband’s, most likely. Nothing important, just a string of rambling, affectionate nonsense.

Suddenly, Cui’er darted out with lightning speed, stopping before her, her face flushed as if smeared with blood.

The effects of the drugs would keep them from getting far. Searching room by room, they almost fell prey to the friends of those they pursued—especially that one named Yoko, who nearly overpowered her, tearing her clothes to shreds in the struggle.

Ever since boarding the Huagou, she had been nominally working, but in reality, she was simply in charge of things.

At that moment, the person in charge at the venue was completely bewildered. The reporters, who had just been lounging about, were now suddenly energized and excited as if they’d taken something.

Upon hearing herself addressed as “Master,” Lu Zijia tilted her head, wondering if a new customer had arrived.

Nie Wu felt some sympathy for Feng Zhijiang, but alongside that was curiosity—he wondered what would ultimately become of him.

The young man collapsed to the ground, blood gushing from his mouth, likely having lost all his teeth with that single slap.

“Let’s go. Whatever it is, I’ll do everything in my power to protect you,” the old man said with a sigh, his face sincere.

Watching the man leading the way, a hint of amusement flickered in Jian Yiyi’s eyes. He really was easy to please.

At first, the villagers were naturally resistant; after all, this was an ancestral method that had been used for centuries.

But she never imagined that the moment she boarded the carriage, He Yanyu would see her, and her unwillingness to mention the Shen family only deepened the misunderstanding.

Smack! “You’re obviously extorting us—robbing us! My son has met all your requirements, why won’t you admit him?” The burly man slammed the registration table, casting a nervous glance at the sixty-year-old soul master before him.

After Zhuling spoke, the others were left at a loss for words. It seemed that whenever she joined a conversation, she managed to bring it to an abrupt halt, so the others simply settled down to rest in silence.

“The Great Zhou, the Peerless State! So you’re people of the three great empires!” Upon hearing Qin Ye’s words, Sister Xu immediately exclaimed in surprise.

This serpent was a stranger to Xie Yeyu; it was nothing like the handsome, white-haired man “Chris” transformed into in the game.

Upon the car’s roof stood a burly figure, bow drawn taut, arrow nocked and ready, none other than Zhang Changong, who had arrived just in time.

The Fate Master looked coldly at the unconscious Yu Xi. She was a top-tier alchemist, her power already terrifying. In truth, Fate Master’s true expertise lay not in martial arts, but in alchemy—second only to the Lord of the Fate Gate.