Chapter 227: Yu Youhan: Can Sex Cultivation Make You Stronger? Chen Mo

Ming'an Street, Yan Mansion.

Yan Peizhi, attended by maidservants, shed his brocade robe and donned a loose silk undergarment, then lay upon the carved sandalwood four-poster bed.

Two delicate-looking maids knelt at the foot of the bed, propping his feet on their thighs and gently pressing the acupoints of his soles.

The feet, as one source of yang energy, when massaged, guide floating yang back to its origin—"guiding fire back to its source"—thus restoring yin-yang balance and aiding sleep.

"Sister Jun, Brother Murong merely spoke the truth; why are you so angry?" Yang Qing murmured.

Today, Yang Fan crippled his arm; he harbored bitter resentment and vowed revenge, or he would lose all face.

The lab was bustling; Huo Jianning continuously introduced Xia Yu to each research team's development directions.

Her beautiful feet were no longer beautiful—only three of her ten toenails remained, bloodied but not fatally injured.

Relative Entertainment, in urgent need of funds elsewhere, now had external financial support.

The old man remembered: when he received that money yesterday, he examined and sniffed it carefully—there was no such scent Jiang Xi claimed.

If all goes well, the future agreement between Sha Hai Entertainment and Marvel Comics will be no issue at all.

No one answered him—that meant he could leave. So Huo Lao Si decisively led his men away from this place of trouble.

"Don't be nervous; just lie down," Qin Luo pulled over the quilt, placing it across the kang's edge, patted the pillow, and Xiao Xiao obediently lay down, closed her eyes, and placed her hands at her sides.

Ji Ruobing, too—she knew I loved Lin Shiyin; even if Lin Shiyin left, I would never give her up—so why does Ruobing still stay with me?

Jiang Feng saw that Bai Shuilan had made no move or sound, and deduced her intent: she was waiting for Xia Long to return before deciding—meaning she would not kill Jiang Feng now.

Flames spun inside the alchemical furnace, swirling the spirit herbs into the air; in moments, they transformed into black powder. This was the first refining complete. Immediately, soul-domain control initiated the second refining.

Zhu Chi's surprise grew with each clash; though fearful, remembering Master Qianyang standing behind him, he channeled even fiercer magic power toward Xuan Yuan.

"Su Kaoye, you may have misunderstood. I mean no matter what, I have no intention of exterminating the Beast Clan—they are our allies now," Jiang Feng emphasized.

The Catman soldiers' strength was around 25—more than enough to handle these rats. She raised her hand, seized the rat's head, then squeezed hard, crushing its skull.

Recalling the earlier scene, Wang Zhongxing instinctively drew closer to the Taoist's path; Xuan Yuan followed silently behind.

"Binglan! Binglan!" Hearing her familiar name called, she opened her eyes—but saw nothing. What was happening? What had happened to her? She was terrified; she felt she had been here before.

Under this night's gloom, all around was a gray haze; the few people saw only the surrounding mountains and trees as pitch-black, none knowing where the childish voice had come from.

In the seventh year of Jiajing of the Ming Dynasty, in Huìtóng Village, Dingzhou, Hebei, there lived a villager named Wang Yuan, alone, destitute, with a rope bed and broken pots, eating every other day, utterly impoverished.

"The Wang Fei indeed suffers from phlegm-dampness, but it does not appear to be cold-damp stagnation," Shen Ruohua frowned after taking her pulse. "It seems more like damp-heat stagnation, but I dare not be certain—perhaps we should summon the Imperial Physician for a proper diagnosis." She looked deeply uncertain.

A figure in a white windbreaker suddenly shot out from the dense treetops, drifting across the azure sky like a bird freed from restraint.

Li Tingji had barely spoken when a stack of memorials crashed to the floor; then the Emperor's roar echoed throughout the Qianqing Palace.