Chapter 43: You're Actually a Pretty Good Person

Hearing what he said, Pei Heng furrowed his brow and pressed, "To achieve that is no easy feat."
"How certain are you of success?"
Gu Rang raised his chin and spoke with a haughty air.
"Eighty percent. Having practiced medicine for so many years, I still have that much confidence."

...

With a sharp slap, he felt a tightness in his chest followed by a sweetness in his throat. A thick mist of blood spewed directly onto the face of the Master of the Tongtian Cult. Together with the primordial Xuanyuan Sword, he was sent flying backward before crashing heavily to the ground.

A single remark left Qingbo blushing furiously. She cast a sidelong glance at him, lowered her head, and remained silent, knowing full well what he meant.

"Ha, haha!" Heimo laughed heartily, boasting, "Just look around, who is the most handsome in the entire Ghost Domain?" With that, he transformed into human form. Truth be told, he was quite striking, with straight, fine purple hair, a sharply chiseled face, slightly upturned thin lips, and an all-black cloak that made him look even more dashing.

Better forget it. As for that place, it was best to avoid it whenever possible, lest people misunderstand and think he was casing the joint to raid the execution ground.

After rummaging through boxes and cabinets, she finally managed to find a set of dark casual clothes, used a piece of black gauze to cover her face, and swept her hair up. Fully equipped, she opened the door and stepped out on tiptoe.

"That is the Third Young Master's exclusive spot, right across from the character for 'Parting'. Their intention is to ask whether it should be reported," the assassin whispered.

Xiao Tu felt a wave of embarrassment. He had thought his hair was starting to grow back in lush and green patches, and that no one would be able to tell he was a monk. Who would have known this plump young woman would spot his scalp immediately and notice his ordination scars? Ah, if only he had worn a hat before coming out; it would have been both fashionable and modest.

Haotian calmly leafed through the memorials that Empress Dowager Lian had been handling on his behalf over the past few days, as well as the locations and candidate rosters for the war between the two realms, his refined brow furrowed slightly.

Fu Yunxi stood on ceremony and offered a playful, graceful curtsy, saying, "Thank you, Sister." With that, she sat down beside her, sitting parallel to Qin Mingzhu with only a single table separating them.

When Madam Qian and the others arrived tomorrow, Shen Wan had nothing much to prepare—merely some light refreshments, tea, and pastries. The food for Madam Qian and her guests had already been prepared by Shen Wan early that morning.

Seeing his unrepentant attitude, Madam Dong lunged forward, making a motion as if she wanted to charge at him and start a brawl.

A sharp glint flashed in Hua Qingtong's eyes, and a joyful radiance brimmed within them. In this way, the city wall would not only remain straight, but would fall precisely where she wanted it to.

"No need!" Her tone was weak and chilling. On that pale, bloodless face, there was not the slightest trace of extra expression.

Faced with the ripples stirring in his heart, Jun Chen knew that after last night's events, he would never again be able to look at Leng Su as his "so-called younger sister."

The nerves of the Han soldiers grew increasingly taut. Everyone gripped their sabers and spears tightly, bracing themselves to meet the enemy cavalry's charge with a determination to die.

Subconsciously looking up at Qin琰, Shen Wan saw that he was just continuing to walk forward with a solemn expression, not looking at all as if he were deliberately teasing her.

Hearing this, Fu Shaochen paused in the middle of picking up some food. His thin lips parted slightly; he had originally intended to tell Leng Su.

Along the way, Jin Feng had roughly calculated the time. The duration since Zhao Zhengheng brought Gu Yu to the hotel was more than enough for the two of them to have done plenty of things.

If he continued to argue his point, wouldn't he simply be admitting that his own son's title of Protectorate General was unearned?

The ones responsible for setting the fire were not many—only ten. Yet cultivators capable of freely manipulating tenth-rank sacred fire were extremely rare even in foreign realms.

Yan Liu and I quickly split into two directions to lure the two giant dragons. However, those two dragons merely stared fixedly at us without moving. A jolt of shock went through my heart—could it be that we had encountered an illusion?