Chapter 213: Discovery

This palace, built of ice, was exquisitely beautiful yet utterly empty, devoid of any furnishings, cold and desolate.

Jiumo Zhi, Huo Linglong, and the others circled the perimeter of the hall, examining for traces.

After a moment, Jiumo Zhi shook his head: “This hall hasn’t been visited in a long time—the frost on the ground is thick, formed over decades or even centuries, and has never been cleared.”

Zhao Ti thought for a moment, then walked toward the back door of the ice hall: “Let’s go outside and take a look.”

Several

Hearing Ya Ling’s explanation, Ka Xiu felt a chill run down his spine—he had never imagined such a thing existed within his soul. Even thinking about it afterward sent shivers through him.

One is the Guard-Yang-Embrace-Yin Secret, the other the Guard-Yin-Embrace-Yang Secret—yin and yang opposing yet complementary. If both are practiced together, they form the Mountain of Mao’s foundational scripture, the Yin-Yang Spirit Subjugation Secret, though the difficulty increases tenfold or more.

In the back courtyard of the stone temple stood a solitary grave; the tombstone bore the inscription: “To My Beloved Wife, Qun, by Han Qing.” A gentle breeze stirred the bamboo grove, and a figure appeared, clad in a black cloak edged with gold thread, his face not handsome but strikingly enduring.

Chen Hao rolled his eyes, deciding further discussion with this thing was pointless, and fell silent.

The blade, razor-sharp, tore through the air; cracks spread from the lakeshore into the Blood Lake, carving a trench several zhang wide, sending waves of blood surging outward.

Then, seeing the security guards approaching the scene, the agent turned and roared at Chen Baliang.

After dinner, Ji Ran sat before her computer, her thoughts scattered; her hands rested on the keyboard, yet not a single word could be typed.

A pavilion every five li, a palace every ten, vermilion walls and emerald tiles gleaming with elegance; towers and terraces half-hidden in golden mist, forests and peaks reflected like paintings in a mirror.

Zhao Qian, leading the way, was also pondering this question: indeed, such an important item would never be casually discarded—but what had befallen this powerful figure remained unknown to all. Perhaps completing the game would reveal the answer.

“Are you mad? You want to bring the Hairy Ones back to the village? What if they retaliate?” Chu Xiaotian demanded angrily.

They stepped into the elevator, and the doors slowly closed. He and Lu Xi drew closer; Lu Xi’s pleasant body scent drifted toward Lin Dong, filling him with clarity and refreshment.

“Oh, Old Su, you’re finally back—I’ve been waiting for you all morning!” As Su Wen stepped through the door, Shen Bancheng grabbed him and pulled him into a seat.

Seeing her expression grow heavy, Yan Cheng lifted his finger and gently brushed her now-stiffened cheek, then continued speaking to her.

The two brothers exchanged a subtle glance—confident, smug—certain Jun Qing would seize this chance to find a way to attach herself to them.

The previously oppressive space fell into quiet calm after the old man’s departure; the room felt unnaturally still.

“Sir, she killed herself!” Jian Chen burst from the elevator, shouting; everyone in the lobby turned to stare, and Liu Nanfeng’s ring clattered to the floor.

They sat at the dining table; Rao Kexin noticed Liu Dongyun still motionless, walked over, and took hold of his hand, still tucked in his hair. Liu Dongyun looked up at her, dazed; Rao Kexin smiled.

The phone kept vibrating—short, sharp pulses—each one a WeChat message. Lin Dong knew: it was probably Zheng Hui, still chatting. He hadn’t replied in so long; she must be anxious. He hurriedly picked up the phone.

Damn, this put Lin Dong in a bind—he was at Qu Yingying’s place; how could he send her his location without revealing her address to Guo Yali? Lin Dong fretted.

The students who had come to buy pills now looked at the alchemy students with strange eyes.

Ji Lingsheng gripped the arrow’s tail, flicked his wrist, and deflected another arrow fired from a completely different direction; the hidden arrow fell to the ground, while his own feathered arrow snapped halfway—this second shot carried far greater force and a far more cunning angle; clearly, the attacker had studied the terrain carefully.