Chapter 842: One Hundred and Eighty-Nine: Old Master, I Do Not Take Disciples

One Hundred and Eighty-Nine: Old Master, I Do Not Take Disciples

Night, deep within the water dungeon.

Before the water-curtain gate of the T-shaped cells.

Upon hearing Ouyang Rong’s response, the old Daoist Sun inside the cell slightly twitched his lips.

Immediately, Ouyang Rong outside heard his sharp, accusing voice:

“Regrettable? More than regrettable—it’s infuriating, hateful, not even worthy of death!”

Ouyang Rong nodded, as if in agreement:

“Mm-hmm, old man, not worthy.”

Sun the Daoist suddenly let out a cold snort.

Night, deep within the water dungeon.

Before the water-curtain gate of the T-shaped cells.

Upon hearing Ouyang Rong’s response, the old Daoist Sun inside the cell slightly twitched his lips.

Immediately, Ouyang Rong outside heard his sharp, accusing voice:

“Regrettable? More than regrettable—it’s infuriating, hateful, not even worthy of death!”

Ouyang Rong nodded, as if in agreement:

“Mm-hmm, old man, not worthy.”

Sun the Daoist suddenly let out a cold snort.

“Remember to turn on Do Not Disturb when you sing—even if no one’s around, better safe than sorry, don’t disturb the neighbors,” Gong Luqing said, eating watermelon.

He now regretted coming to this world—why had he gone out of his way to entangle himself with his wife from thirty thousand years ago? Couldn’t he have just fulfilled his duty? Even if she truly was his wife, she was a living being in a different world.

But Boss! Even if you won’t go back to see them, you should at least comfort these few! He gestured toward Luo Xi and the others.

After hanging up, the kettle boiled. Lin Dong placed his phone on the coffee table, crushed his cigarette in the ashtray, and began brewing tea.

Lin Yi lay back beneath the grapevine, squinting at the middle-aged man kneeling behind Ye Qiu.

“There’s a room upstairs—sleep in the same one as before. Go to bed early. Remember to wake up and prepare breakfast for Doudou tomorrow, since I’m not sure if Uncle Chen and the others will return.” Gong Luoyu then returned to his room.

She spoke of death, yet still smiled faintly. Had human life long since become as worthless as grass to her?

That was two years ago, when the Southern Revolutionary Army was in turmoil; Yuan Shikai needed support from regional warlords and stability in the rear, so he sought to eliminate rivals—Zhang Zuolin was one of them.

The young Kesa’s face darkened at Wu Xing’s reckless words, and she turned away immediately.

“Do you think, after I lend you the boat, you’ll live to see today’s sunset?” the Fat Laughing Buddha sighed.

Ye Chen felt momentarily lost: if one day he fulfilled his promise and accomplished what his heart longed for, should he stay in this bustling metropolis—or follow the Ye family’s ancestral tradition and retire to a village as a simple villager?

“Very well, I’ll go tell His Majesty myself,” Huo Chen said without anger, turning to leave.

Since Shen Yunyou was injured, Ye Zixuan had been the one constantly by his side. His persistence made them all uneasy, yet they were powerless to stop him—and it weighed heavily on Mo Yuling’s heart. After all, if her medical skills had been just a little sharper, Shen Yunyou might have woken up long ago.

“Why would Yue Xi do this? We’ve always been close.” Qing Jiu struggled to accept it, but Mo Yan’s absence was fact—if Mo Yan were still alive, he would have returned. Moreover, only Yin Yuexi survived the mission escorting Mu Wanqing to Dezhou; the whole thing was deeply suspicious.

Moreover, Ji Yuchen felt the man’s smile was too false—his grin seemed deliberately forced.

Shen Feng had believed the explosion would at least severely wound Tian Shi Changcai—or kill him outright.

Yet, he did not wish to revisit past events—he feared reopening wounds buried deep in each of their hearts.

“If you want me to take responsibility, then I’ll spend the rest of my life taking care of you, okay?” Ye Chen said, looking at Xiao Xiao.

He faintly saw a figure radiating coldness on the sofa. Su Momo turned on the living room light and saw Shi Zichen slumped against it, gazing at her with icy eyes.

“What if we lose?” Zhang Xiaolin, like Du Yuesheng, always considered defeat before victory. But Du Yuesheng’s earlier words—“fifty-fifty split”—had truly captivated him. Du Yuesheng hadn’t spoken empty words; he’d offered real, tangible benefits.