Chapter 957: The Normandy Landing

Bob coughed for a long time, staring at Lü Wenhua in shock, wondering if he’d misheard.

That Digital Harbour, after seizing Hongcheng Telecommunications from Hongcheng Telegraph, didn’t stop—now it’s come to England to snatch assets from British Airways?

A Changjiang Li family from Hongcheng has been buying up everything in England; though mainstream British media stayed silent, many true John Bulls—genuine Anglo-Saxon thugs—were deeply annoyed.

Most

The bully Zhang Ju stared blankly at his man rolling on the ground, dumbfounded, looking at Lin Muyu as if he were dreaming.

Now, Feng Ximeng stood not far from the window, eyes wide and ears straining, watching and listening intently to the scene before her, afraid she’d miss a single detail.

Not long after, they arrived in Dadu. The five beautiful women had never been to the capital before, and they were thrilled by its splendor.

This made Wang Yuehan feel slightly embarrassed; she lowered her head and whispered a quiet “thank you.”

Soon after, a few intermittent shouts came through, but the room’s noise was too loud to make out any words—only one thing was certain: the voice came from the next room.

No matter how fierce the snow and wind, no matter how many disasters struck, no matter how great the obstacles, there would always come a time when they ceased, a time to grit your teeth and push through, and a time when sunlight revealed a rainbow.

Fang Yue guessed what might be inside, about to summon the brass mirror to peer into the tomb—when the tomb suddenly changed.

“It’s just a dream, what’s there to fear? You’re so old now—still scared of nightmares?” Mu Xi said dismissively.

“Let her go!” Zhang Yunze said firmly, his voice loud enough to cut through the room’s noisy music.

“This is…?” Fang Yue didn’t understand the change, couldn’t tell if it was good or bad—but anything tied to a ghostly thing was unlikely to be good.

But the Qiantian Emperor wouldn’t let him escape so easily; the instant he rose into the air, the Tianyuan Boat—a slumbering flood-beast—suddenly surged forth, tearing through space, a white rainbow piercing the sun, slamming into Jiang Yi’s body.

If one day he found the Seven Colors, avenged his brothers and sisters, and reclaimed Zhou Qingsha, he would surely reclaim this cave mansion again—and they would meet once more.

With almost no resistance, the young man’s body exploded under Jiang Yi’s grip; all his heavenly immortal laws were seized and gathered into Jiang Yi’s hands.

Moreover, the Northern Song’s commercial spirit was intense, no less than modern-day Tianchao—if you paid your tax silver, the authorities didn’t care where you set up your stall.

The carriage moved slowly along the official road; Yan Xun pulled back the curtain and quietly watched the outside world—the laboring peasants, the gentle sun, the lush grass—it was a fine day. Sunlight fell on his face, making him drowsy.

“Uncle, you should rest properly,” Huang Fei said sympathetically, seeing how this once glorious patriarch had been reduced to this state.

After walking twenty or thirty li, the path disappeared; they had to cling to vines and creepers to barely find their way.

Since Mu Sheng had declared his intent to ascend to immortality, no one had any reason to hold him back; all unanimously chose Nangong Yulei as ruler of Li Country, to lead and govern Zuzhou. After attending Nangong Yulei’s coronation, Mu Sheng bid farewell to everyone and returned with his wife and children to Yuansheng Sect.

Su Jue glanced at the four divine envoys still entangled by the nine-headed serpent—they were slightly stronger than he’d expected, but still had weaknesses.

Beneath the unusual silence, the atmosphere wasn’t oppressive. No one needed to force conversation; everyone felt unexpectedly at ease.