29 Lychee

With a sharp crack, a blast of searing flame lashed out, sending Ziting sprawling to the ground, her head striking the floor and blood flowing from the wound.

After a brief conversation, Buyantai suddenly remarked that one ingredient was missing. She sent the eunuch in charge of decocting the medicine to fetch it.

Clearly, there was no relying on anyone here—these two had come not to help, but to supervise and stir up trouble.

Liancheng understood her predicament perfectly. She had no right to refuse. If Powell discovered her existence, not even the depths of Hell or the Blood Refining Prison would offer sanctuary.

He laid out the information he’d received before her. When He Xu saw the contents of that text message, a chill sank deep into his heart.

Milan lay in bed; in all the time since she’d awakened, not a single word of comfort had reached her ears. Huo Yancheng—the man she loved to her very bones—was right before her now. Yet seeing her in this state, he offered not the slightest concern. Instead, he questioned her.

“Two!” Such simple information hardly required investigation. All the continent knew that Caesar, the Divine Martial King, had the fewest wives among the nobility.

At these words, Elsa trembled and immediately lowered her head in despair, not daring to utter even a word in her own defense.

No, no, it was better to go to S City first—to see her old friends from afar, complete the business she needed to attend to, and only then return to confront the truth.

For three days, Li Mu had obediently remained at home. Since he was on medical leave, he ought to behave accordingly. If he were caught out enjoying himself, it would surely bring him unnecessary trouble.

Zhou Xiaojing watched anxiously as the old master seemed swayed by the words of the girl in his arms. This was surely Infinite—so who had struck Pan Yue’s face?

Xu Daofu gave her a deep look, said nothing, and turned to leave. Haste makes waste; he was certain he would find a way to bring back the former Princess Jin.

Sheng Qinghuan was still reeling from shock when the man kissed her. Afterward, with perfect composure, he took her hand and led her away.

When she awoke in the morning, she opened her eyes to see him lying on his side beside her, separated only by a single quilt. He gazed at her intently, and as she stirred, he greeted her with a gentle, “Good morning.”

Sensing movement, Xia Bing quickly rose and approached Gu Yue, steadying her with concern in her voice but not on her face. “You’re awake! Are you feeling unwell anywhere?”

Praised, Shen Jie betrayed not a trace of pride, only nodded politely to Jing Yuan.

“Brother, what are you doing here?” Lou Mian removed her eye mask and immediately spotted a man with striking orange hair, delicate features, and a roguish, flamboyant smile.

Mu Jinxuan personally escorted Gu Yue back to the dormitory building. Fortunately, it was late at night, quite dark, and there were hardly any people about.

On the way home, someone—no one could say who—held their breath, tense, occasionally glancing nervously out the window.

Supporting herself on the bed, she was about to speak when, in the next instant, the man’s passionate kiss descended upon her lips.

Shen Jinhan watched as the garment slid to the floor. The whiteness of Wen Huairong’s neck extended downward, as delicate as pear blossom paper in the moonlight, her back smooth and slender.

Afterward, however, Shangguan Ying heard a new legend, and hope, once extinguished, began to burn anew.

Terror-stricken faces filled the streets as people fled Astrakhan in desperation. Even knowing Ming troops waited to the south, north, and east, they rushed toward death without hesitation.

Jiu Ling, the Yuan Saint, was stunned—and so was everyone else. The true identity of Bai Susu was the Lady of Wudang. Except for the Azure Lion, even the Bull Demon King hadn’t told anyone—not even Red Boy, who still called Bai Gujing “Susu.” But naturally, the Azure Lion shared the secret with the Peacock and the Roc.

Dukao listened to Sona, then turned to the screen—and was stunned. “Could it be that Shaofei has mastered mature wormhole transportation technology, and over long distances?” he exclaimed.

Allow Me to Be Drunk pushed his gourd forward in a flurry. Lu Jiazi could only draw his sword to defend, parrying three strikes before unleashing six more from impossible angles—up, down, left, right, forward, and backward—sealing off his foe.

Under the crimson moon, the deserted streets of Zotlan were shrouded in tranquil night.

Besides, it was he who sent Wen Huairong to pry open the criminal Changqing’s lips. Now, though the talk was of the Ninth Princess, in truth, their subject was the Crown Prince.

A Shui froze, remembering Wu Xin—how Wu Xin and Wu Yue had once been inseparable, but now, one resided in heaven and the other on earth, forever parted by life and death.

With eyes closed, she whispered silently in her heart, “Master, your disciple does not wish to leave you. Master, I miss you so much.”

Even the Bat King Wei Yixiao, known as a devil by the martial world, looked pained and could not bear to glance again at the sides of the square.

Yet the Mountain Guarding Formation of the Valley of Yin and Yang was no simple matter. No amount of aimless pondering could unravel its mysteries.

The youth lying there caught much of Mu Mu’s attention. His frail, trembling form soothed much of her irritation. If not for this innocent soul, the entire matter would have been meaningless.

The park, at this hour, was a haven for lovers, and none found anything amiss about the sounds they heard.

“Miyako?” Byakuya Kuchiki gazed at the doorway where Miyako had long since vanished, clenching his fist beneath the table. From the moment he witnessed Miyako’s talent, he’d regarded him as his rival—the one he must surpass.

“Emilia…” Yan Fei felt a soft, graceful body nestle against his chest, the delicate fragrance of elven hair drifting to him with every breath.

The physician nodded before feeding the concoction to Zhang Yong. Using his divine sense, Xia Tian observed as Zhang Yong’s wounds began to heal at a speed visible to the naked eye, marveling at the potency of the spiritual medicine.

Chu Tianxiong entered the men’s cell. It was a small room, less than twenty square meters, with a ring of straw mats and quilts lining the walls. Behind a low wall at the end was a latrine, also with a quilt spread beside it.

Back in the lower realm, the Ninth Girl’s cultivation had lagged behind hers, but over time, the Ninth Girl grew stronger by the day, while her own progress slowed more and more.

Eran had no real hope that Yan Fei could come up with a workable plan. Even if he did, Eran wouldn’t dare attempt it. The soul-binding contract was set by the gods. If triggered, a deity would descend and wipe out all humans on Eran’s plane.

Song Ruyu quickly took the teacup, rinsed her mouth, then glanced around, hurried to the corner, and spat the water into a spittoon.