Chapter 71

70. Dog Fight (Seeking First Subscription!)

Slanting wind blew fine rain through the window hole, dampening the windowsill.

On the wooden bed by the window, quilts, clothes, and assorted furs were tangled into a messy heap.

Among these pungent, cluttered items, a dog with fur as white as snow, untainted by a single speck, sat crouched atop a greasy, stained pillow.

This snow-white dog, named Bai Er, was the beloved pet of Qian Chaodong, the wine cellar overseer.

Qian Chaodong was currently nowhere to be found.

Of the immobilized sea folk, one-third died within five seconds before regaining awareness; yet the bone-deep chill had not fully faded, and Yang Yu kept firing wildly at them—no one had ever imagined that gentle sheep could be so bloodthirsty and ruthless.

Two of the Four Fiends had already appeared; were the other two Chaos and Qiongqi? I continued examining the other two directions—and indeed, the two predicted monstrous beasts were there.

“Master Mu.” He bowed his head, uttering the two words with formal reverence, yet they carried an unspoken meaning beneath.

Since Master Xu passed away, she no longer slept in her former bedroom, saying the sight of familiar things stirred painful memories.

Lin Shuangxi was a man of greed, avarice, and self-interest—capable of anything for profit.

Song Cheng’s father’s eyes darted wildly in panic, but the senior lady said not another word to him, her face wearing a faint, ambiguous smile—perhaps mockery toward the man who had betrayed her repeatedly, or perhaps an unnoticed act of revenge.

After Father He Huanshan’s funeral, my senior brother and I spent our days performing rituals and handling supernatural matters—and eleven years passed; I was now eighteen.

I suddenly changed temperament and stabbed my classmate’s hand; only I can explain this behavior. The reason my classmate and his parents suddenly altered their attitude can be found by locating them. Whether I truly suffer from latent autism—only the psychologist can answer.

Feng Ruobai’s cheek muscles twitched abruptly, as if struck by a faint electric current.

“Xu Bo, what are you up to? Why did you suddenly bring Fu Shijin here?” Lin Jiajia snapped back.

At that moment, Gu Fengqing entered the courtyard with his men; one of his bodyguards brought forward a high-backed armchair, and Gu Fengqing sat down without ceremony.

Quietly pushing open the master bedroom door, Chen Yu saw Chen Sanke fast asleep, hugging a Husky. Relieved, he closed the door and sat on the living room sofa to rest.

“You’re waiting for me?” The seductive woman in tight leather stepped close to Qin Ziling, intimately.

There was no goose to feed at home, so grass demand was low; but whenever she went out, Jiang Ruonan still gathered a handful of grass to bring back and feed to the ducks—here, this was called “seeing green.” Domesticated poultry needed regular access to fresh greens to thrive.

The bell was smooth to the touch, heavy, with a black band circling its top—exquisitely crafted.

Practicing now seemed noticeably more effective than during the day, but I’d set aside my daytime duties for now—tonight, at least, I had something to do.

Qin Ziling reached into the air and summoned a glowing screen, displaying several images of animal skeletons.

At least twice as thick as a modern gaming laptop, yet utterly weightless. Along the streamlined, semi-curved body, striped vents glowed faintly with blue breathing lights, radiating high-tech elegance.

After thinking it over, Lin Lin immediately packed up her gear, recalling she’d prepared many tools back when she’d left her hometown—this time, she was fully ready, so she leapt straight down from the tree and headed for Da Huang.