Chapter 105

A lone heir of the Southern Tang survives; Emperor Taizong searched the realm for twenty years but found nothing, assuming he had fled beyond the seas.

At the time, Zhao Ti told Gao Taotao that a hundred years had passed, and he was long since dust and bones; even if descendants remained, they likely no longer cared about restoring the kingdom—yet this was merely words of comfort, for look at Murong Fu: the Yan state had fallen far longer ago than the Southern Tang, yet he still schemed alliances daily, dreaming of reviving his ancestral realm.

Zhao Ti closed his eyes slightly; the Great Qi Shift surged.

Mai Ying and Mai Xi looped back to camp; Shen Qingming slashed with his sword—Mai Xi had already been eaten by insects.

After all, one risks everything to seize a place; no one is invincible, and everyone must bear some risk.

Lin Xiyu, having confirmed the Jingguang Emperor’s breath was gone, stepped lightly forward, her figure graceful as she approached, the hem of her robe trailing a long mark behind her.

Though he seemed a crude man, his mind was in fact exceedingly subtle—though this subtlety was not innate; it was slowly forged over years of restless tossing and turning.

Yun Yuyuan could not withstand the demonic Bi Qing Jing Mirror Tiger and was gravely wounded; at the critical moment, the Phoenix appeared and saved his life. He then had to use Phoenix blood to heal—naturally, unless scrutinized closely, no one would suspect this was a trap.

Wind stirred the curtain, rain pattered loudly; the wind and rain echoed sharply through the empty valley. Unaware, night grew deep, the rainy night utterly still. Liu Qianzhan sat on a grand armchair beside him, clutching Chixiao Sword, dozing off. Liu Ziyue draped a thin blanket over him, then turned and left.

Perhaps her words made sense, or perhaps her calm demeanor was too striking—the five men hesitated, not rushing to attack, only watching her coldly.

Just as before, when he relentlessly pursued the Fourth Prince and remnants of the former dynasty, the newly released General Huang Meng today raised the old charges again, urging the Emperor to pass judgment swiftly.

Xuan Er and the others sensed something amiss; they turned in unison to gaze at the nine kneeling main generals, yet they still stared blankly toward the throne, showing no awareness of being controlled—where was the dignity of a great general?

The nurses in the outpatient department grew uneasy; the new head nurse seemed dangerous—who should they side with? Their days ahead would be hard.

To say Shen Jizhao had predicted Wei Diandian’s every move was merely a joke; in truth, Nao Nao’s real thought was this: if he arranged the battlefield so the blind man saw him voluntarily abandon resources, perhaps the blind man would want to claim the Three Wolves for himself.

Atop a peak there, wind and snow raged daily, yet halfway up the mountain, the weather was mild and sunny, surrounded by temples built of tung wood, their eaves carved with dragons.

By the time the furious sixth-level demonic beast realized what had happened, few third- or fourth-level demonic beasts remained beside it.

“No, I didn’t… yes, I did.” A wise man adapts to circumstances—even before death, one may choose how to die. Liu Ke knew he had touched the tiger’s butt; he sighed inwardly, lowering his head, hoping Guo Zi would spare his family.

Yin Liangsha caught the whip, raised her gaze—and saw the back of the quiet singer extend a hand; Mingwang Dao suddenly appeared. She tossed it casually; the blade sliced through the air, piercing Ye Xue’s body, vanishing into the earth.

Shen Yixuan was gone again, as every morning—the bed held no warmth. She pouted, then shrugged; she was used to it by now.

“You show nothing at all. Everyone’s waiting for your good news. Come on, come on—stop tormenting us single folks…” Nian Yuan chuckled.

Rough skin brushed against her lips, tickling them; Gonggong Yue felt her earlobes burn, and her slender arms instinctively wrapped around his waist.

To Lin Feng, the notion of a “chosen one” was pure marketing nonsense—if he hadn’t told him that, how could Lin Feng have felt satisfied after spending so much money just to buy a sword back?