Chapter 120: 118, Witchcraft, Poison, and Mite Arts (1/2)

118, Witchcraft, Poison, and Mite Arts (1/2)

Black water mirrored countless scenes.

A dilapidated courtyard appeared within the “mirror,” where a figure moved about, rummaging through its furnishings.

Zhou Chang recognized the familiar courtyard, his expression momentarily dazed: “He’s gone to my house?”

“What does he want?”

The old man beside him said nothing, his gaze fixed tightly on the figure’s back.

The figure’s silhouette alone made Yang

The soldier with the bow had never been patient; seeing Shi Jin’s state, his anger flared. He drew an arrow from his quiver and prepared to stab him dead.

He wasn’t entirely against Sun Yin remarrying—he just wanted to give her some breathing room, to let her adrenaline settle before she seriously considered marriage.

Stress-induced tremors made every movement tear at his unbroken flesh, the agonizing, helpless sight drawing sighs from all who watched.

Jet-black hair floated midair; Tang Sui’s ink-dark pupils fixed unblinkingly on Yang Wudi’s stubborn resistance and the increasingly deep, dark shadow beneath his feet. A faint curve lifted at her lips, the crimson glow in her eyes swirling like thick night, as if something would burst forth.

Of course, the Second and Fifth Concubines found no joy in this meal; after eating, they quickly bowed to the matriarch and returned to their own courtyards.

“This… is for me to punch the hilt with my fist?” Hattori Heiji asked the Misty Dog. Seeing it nod, he swallowed hard, clenched his right fist, and struck the hilt with moderate force.

“As a Guardian Elder of the Azure Dragon Society, why are you helping me?” Lin Han asked immediately.

Zhao Chun and his younger brother had an especially close relationship; perhaps because he was several years older, he’d developed a sense of responsibility.

“You may not know, but I’m the courtesan who once ruled the brothel,” the madam confessed.

Zhu Yuanzhang is now paving the way for Crown Prince Zhu Biao’s imperial authority; when Zhu Biao ascends, Ning Que will become the rightful heir, and Yan Wuju naturally wishes to cultivate a good relationship with the future crown prince.

The driver looked up but still refused to release the beauty’s body. “What is it? Say it—I’d even pay you!” He bent down again to kiss her.

There are also extended forms, like Li Bai, whose courtesy name is Taibai—Taibai refers to the White Star, extending the meaning of “white.” There are also auxiliary forms, like Zheng Qiao, whose courtesy name is Yuzhong—qiao means chopping wood, yu means fishing; they are constant companions, mutually supportive.

Hearing Huang Youlong’s words, Ali reluctantly agreed, then glanced at Guo Fei; his hatred deepened.

Honestly, it’s different—according to the shop assistant, the water’s different, the meat’s different, even the noodles are different.

At the mention of their names, the clan heads of the Sha and Yan families turned pale with fear and collapsed to their knees with a thud.

Xu Haibao hauled the seven- or eight-pound grouper to the reef below, scooped it up with a net, and, watching the grouper struggle desperately within it, felt the day’s catch was quite good.

“Hey, Lizi, your video’s hit over three million views—it’s now number one in the entire semester’s video contest.” Qian Fat grinned at Han Yue.

The thunder dragon circling the Heaven-Defying Halberd vanished, replaced by a dragon-shaped seal—sharper still.

“I still go out at night, to the well. At that hour, everything seems normal, no oddities—until I near the well, when suddenly thick fog rolls in, obscuring all surrounding houses.”

At this moment, a golden flame burned upon his body, slowly consuming it, as if intent to reduce him to nothingness.