Chapter 961: Riot

"What's going on?"

"Spirits are rioting?!"

Everyone turned pale; even the Mo Sect commander, usually as steady as a mountain, wore an utterly solemn expression.

The surrounding yin energy surged like storm clouds gathering, thick beyond measure; the sky grew so dark it seemed ready to drip water, and a chilling cold seeped into their very bones.

The black-robed elder raised his head to gaze at the sky.

The sky was gray and hazy, suffused with yin energy—nothing else.

But he could foresee it.

Hearing this, the old lady and Su Qingyun looked at Ouyang Xichie in disbelief, unable to believe he would say such a thing.

Now he was pulling out that same stubborn, relentless act again, clearly waiting for her to surrender—she was exasperated by this man, but even more so by herself, for she had begun to doubt many things. She realized she still clung to illusions and hope for certain matters.

"What if I want you not to be the owner of Mingzhuang Pavilion, but the mistress of all brothels in Chu State?" Yun Shu gazed at her lightly, his eyes as faint as a feather, as if speaking of something trivial.

He was also short-tempered; if he got into a conflict, it'd be lucky if he didn't get hurt—but if he did, it'd be hard to justify.

Shen Yizhi also lost his smile; his usually gentle, courteous eyes flashed with cold light, and instantly a powerful pressure surged forward—not the icy chill of Su Zizhen, but like a suffocating net, crushing the breath from one's lungs with no escape, a sensation even worse than Su Zizhen's.

Zhang Han Yan heard the slapping sound of sandals behind him—tap-tap-tap, like blows against his taut nerves, one after another, maddeningly irritating. He turned around to tell her to go back to bed, when suddenly a warm, soft body with a familiar scent crashed into his arms.

Li Jingyu stared deeply at their retreating backs, then turned and got into the car, which sped into the dark night, charging forward recklessly.

"I won't let you see." He Minglan tossed her head up proudly, refusing to show Feng Anyan her hand, poked full of needle holes, and the needle and thread in her grasp.

These words exploded in Mu Xueli's mind like thunder, as if the entire world had suddenly brightened.

Old Li made his meaning clear—he wanted money, but no one knew exactly how much.

"Get lost!" Bai Linghuai had to turn away, or else she'd throw up.

She must make her father the king believe it wasn't something she could create. Otherwise, her father, being an emperor, would inevitably harbor ambitions to dominate the world. If he learned she possessed such ability, he'd never let her go again.

Fu Tianhan, at this moment, was no less heartbroken—he saw how much suffering she had endured, and how could his heart possibly be light?

Huang Qingran glanced at Xu Wanyi, thinking it best to leave this matter to Xu Wanyi to resolve; having decided, he turned to Xu Wanyi.

Tan Yong was done, then came Li Pan and Ghost Head; after a few rounds, more than half the bottle of vodka had gone down Ma Erlang's throat. Ma Erlang blinked hard—he could no longer make out faces, his head too heavy to lift.

This Li Daxun had nothing to do with him; if Gu Shao Yang hadn't told him to come, he wouldn't have come. Besides, he wasn't here just for Li Daxun.

He took out a jewelry box from inside, opened it, and immediately saw the silver longevity lock.

Among the Four Great Masters, Gu Tuhua felt some unease—was another outcome of "the rabbit dead, the hunting dog cooked" about to unfold? Judging by this, the old man's so-called "job" excuse seemed genuinely meant for their benefit.

"You're straightforward." Xianyou Bo looked at the green hat with pity—he'd been a ghost official for years, and everyone says ghosts are clever, so why had he grown so dull? He kept pushing credit onto Da Lan, yet when Da Lan feasted, he never once thought to share the broth.