Chapter 78: 77. The Black Lion, the Fierce Zhang Liao (2/3)

77. The Black Lion, the Fierce Zhang Liao (2/3)

“I’m from Hangcheng, but whether I’m the Lin Yifeng you’re referring to, I don’t know,” Lin Yifeng said, shrugging.

“Then I thank you, Brother Junyi,” Tai Shi Ci also laughed; everywhere, this phrase about Zhang Junyi was never spoken in vain—his earlier words clearly favored Fei, but this was the Yunzhong army’s encampment, so even Zi Yi had to reserve his own advantage first.

“Jiang Zhe. My guess was right. His love truly overcame post-traumatic stress disorder,” Dai Fu smiled brightly.

Huang Taolue pulled a sheet of paper from his sleeve and read aloud: “In the second month of the tenth year of Longfeng, the nation of Yuelang invaded our Jinqi Commandery, killing six thousand seven hundred and fifty-four of our people and looting untold quantities of our wealth and grain.”

In the fleeting moment this absurd thought surfaced, Longji felt deeply moved—an unprecedented, strange emotion instantly flooded his heart, spreading to his eyelids, then the sky, the earth, and his very soul.

In fact, the figure standing at the other end of the waterside pavilion, silently watching and walking with held breath, felt a sudden, unexpected pang—this reunion, after four years of separation, destined to be a meeting where all things remained but the people had changed.

Bai Zi snorted and retracted its head; fortunately, Yin Le was wearing white clothing, and Bai Zi was white too, so no one saw it—otherwise, it would have been terrifying.

“Aren’t you still here? You can take care of my father,” Gu Yina glanced at him.

“Words mean nothing. Sign and seal this agreement—I simply can’t trust your character,” Hao Tian said, as if he’d anticipated this moment, producing a contract.

“Then this is her fool of a husband. The outside world says he’s foolish. Now I look at him—he’s decent-looking, but I wonder just how foolish he is. Come, accompany me over to take a look,” the Dowager Consort ordered.

What infuriated her was that her flawless body, offered to Pei Yuansheng, was rejected by him.

Xiong Ti saw the youth land on the rock, then vanish in a flash; behind him, the mountain forest was already filled with hurried, chaotic footsteps—Huashan Sect disciples had caught up.

The Five Poisons Sect was famed for its poisons and hidden weapons; the Nine-Tailed Scorpion King’s words held some truth, but his intent was to belittle his opponent and elevate himself, revealing utter arrogance and brazen conceit.

Li Hai had never met this tailor, an old man who didn’t fare well; he’d said this only because, though the old man refused Li Hai’s help, his hunched frame struggled to reach the black cloth hanging from a beam—higher than his body by half.

Hu Li didn’t have Li Hai’s lightning-gun control, but he had sharp claws; he scrambled up the cave wall with hands and feet, landing lightly, then rose and stepped aside.

Su Qing didn’t refuse this; she understood her elders’ care and wouldn’t be ungrateful.

Severe heart patients cannot eat such greasy and spicy food, let alone Pei Yuansheng, who had only recently undergone surgery.

Cheng Lie thought Tang Xiao’s current reaction was rather vacant—nothing like her sharp-tongued banter in the car earlier; perhaps she was too nervous, but there wasn’t time to ask now, so he patted her hand in reassurance.

It was a gaze devoid of emotion, casually swept in her direction, yet it sent a chill down her spine, filling her with guilt so intense she wanted to flee.

Of course there were—when I checked the documents, the top basic data listed several from outside.

From another perspective, the Demon Realm tightly controlled access to other realms; otherwise, if powerful beings from other realms entered the Rakshasa Realm, wouldn’t that be a catastrophe?

To Gao Changgong, this wooden fence was merely decorative—he had many ways to deal with it. Still, he preferred to avoid killing; if either Duan Jiulian or Bai Li were harmed, presenting them to Xiao Mo would be problematic.

Upon learning the opponent was the Prince of Lanling, Xiao Mo immediately relaxed and sat down heavily. The Prince of Lanling’s character was decent enough; Xiao Mo wasn’t worried he’d strike secretly. Moreover, Gao Changgong’s strength was long exhausted—he was now merely a fading force—and Xiao Mo had no fear.

This one only just woke up—perhaps because our noise disturbed it, forcing it out. According to his analysis, the Ox-Head Demon before them isn’t as powerful as Master Wang Yidao claimed.

“Is this Wang Ben really that formidable?” Xiao Mo muttered, studying the intelligence delivered by Wang Ding. Wang Ben’s background had been uncovered: he was escorting the Huang Kingdom’s envoy out of You Kingdom into Huang Kingdom. Along the way, Wang Ding had tested Wang Ben’s martial skill and found him stronger than himself.

“Don’t be nervous—we’re merchants from the mountains, just looking for directions,” the man smiled; but as he did, the long scar on his face twisted like a monstrous centipede crawling across his skin.