Chapter 103

“Oh?” Zhao Ti smiled. He had previously inquired of the prefectural officials; Huang Shang had only one son, named Huang Mo—where could there be another son called Buai? Huang Shang had entered the imperial examinations through the proper path, a top scholar—he would never give his son a name like “Buai,” fit for the martial world.

Zhao Ti waved at the boy: “Come here.”

The boy glanced around, his expression hesitant.

Zhao Ti said: “Don’t be afraid. Your father isn’t home. No one’s watching you here.”

The boy scratched his head: “I’m

The thin, tall cultivator told Jiang Han some things about the Ancestral Snake Cult; he was ninety percent certain that if someone had been captured by the Ancestral Snake Cult, this was likely where they would be held.

The entrance to Lingshan is everywhere—just show your pass, and a gate opens directly to your destination. Before them stretched a golden, radiant path leading to Lingshan, a place of boundless wonder.

A commotion erupted outside the Buddha hall—the frantic barking of dogs was especially shrill. The Empress Dowager glanced calmly toward the door, threaded her prayer beads onto her wrist, lit a lantern on the table, took it in hand, and pushed open the door.

The scene did not end here. When Jiang Han stepped out of the forest, time seemed to rewind—the setting continuously reversed, time flowing backward.

This was not due to Zhao Hongwu and the others’ brilliance or leadership rivaling Zhao Chenlu; rather, these temporary government members had been driven to the brink.

Gunfire rang out, startling everyone in the group. It was Tan Zicong who fired—he shot dead a sick subordinate. Though the subordinate had made no aggressive move, Tan Zicong, out of self-preservation, executed him publicly before all.

Sun the nursemaid lifted her lantern for a closer look and realized the girl before her was no other than Hong Feng, the second-class maid from the southern courtyard, who served the Secondary Imperial Consort.

Liu Ziyue rested her head on the rocking chair, tilting her head back to watch the crimson glow on the wall. Beneath the blazing firelight, the inn’s white walls and gray tiles had changed color—white and gray now swathed in scorching, mind-clouding red. The mantis had entered the trap; as expected, those hoping to be the oriole behind the mantis were about to reveal themselves.

Jiang Han did not answer him, for his mind was in chaos—likely due to suddenly receiving too much information.

Shangguan Honglie acted as if he hadn’t heard, still lost in thought. If he truly raised an army and seized the throne, could he still fulfill Fei’s wish for one lifetime, one partner? Or could he even make her Empress?

“Is it good?” Iyefet Abraham’s final “Is it good?” pierced the heart. Raphael stared into her eyes—her eyes glowed, as if one could truly see these beautiful scenes reflected within them.

The guest spoke with a Ningbo countryside accent, but since Shanghai dialect and Ningbo dialect were largely the same, Qin Beiyang, on the other side of the floor, had no trouble understanding.

Damn! Xuan Yi cursed silently. This seemingly wealthy merchant, this fat bastard, was the real hidden big fish. Unlike the Snake Demon, a spiritual product, this one was a true S-rank powerhouse—no wonder detailed scans couldn’t penetrate his data.

The lunch continued, but Xuan Yi had no appetite. He instinctively sensed something was wrong and decided to find Zhen Si and the others first. He rose from his seat and happened to catch the watchful gaze of the round-faced Daoist Daha from afar. Their eyes met—the Daoist casually turned his head and strolled slowly away.

Lu Qingqing named the claw in her mind “Golden Claw,” and the golden power within it became “Golden Claw Power.”

Ying Yuan snapped back to awareness, clearing his throat awkwardly. Her appearance held him transfixed—beautiful to the point of breathlessness.

“Dispel the formation! Defensive array!” Raphael wisely chose to disband the formation and turned to look at Lud Luishui.