Chapter 251: Southward Search

Xingzhou, north of the city, Western Xia Imperial Palace.

This palace was not particularly vast, yet it was built with extreme opulence, golden and jade-glittering, carved railings and jade steps, magnificent and splendid.

Originally, the palace held countless gold, silver, jewels, and rare artifacts—accumulated treasures from over a century before and after the founding of Western Xia.

But now it was utterly empty; the gold, silver, and treasures were gone, leaving only everyday household items, all crafted from valuable materials, yet looking

The Goryeo soldiers on the wall hastily lowered the basket; soldiers below scrambled to seize it and climb upward, while arrows rained down upon the Han army. Dian Wei had already charged to the front of the formation, raising his large shield above his head, while Hou Hou gripped his long halberd and led the charge onto the floating bridge—the sheer weight of his body sank the bridge an inch downward.

At last, he clearly saw the man before him—the terrifying black-clad soldiers who had pursued him and his comrades all night.

A faint cry echoed through the night; as if the sound of a snapped bowstring had just been heard, the crossbow bolt struck straight to his chest. Zhang’s final sight before falling from his horse was the dim glow of torches as countless arrows poured toward him, while hundreds of light cavalry surged from both sides, shouting and galloping.

Yan Bei’s body swayed again and again, yet he did not fall; instead, he turned his head, his eyes vacant, gazing at the approaching Liangzhou troops, and slowly raised his blade—light as air in daily use, now heavier than a thousand catties.

A withered voice slowly entered; Su Ni, supported by a frantic martial artist, stepped in one slow step at a time.

Because in Zhu Yuanzhang’s view, the more he devoted himself to Guo Zixing and General Guo, the more suspicion Guo Zixing would harbor toward him.

He Zheng’s attitude toward Jian Yi was quite good, and he also recounted some things he had learned during the day.

“Must hold!” he muttered inwardly; Du Qi pushed his strength to its limit, crossing his arms before his chest to block.

Kai Kai and Zheng Hao, gleefully mimicking the morning crowd, kept calling him “Miao Jiang” and “Big Brother-in-Law.” Lin Lin nearly called an international line straight to Zheng Hao’s and Kai Kai’s homes to complain to their wives and Youyou.

These apprentices were all fourth-tier experts, roughly comparable to the thugs Sun Mo had originally hired.

Everything was clear. Yu Liuming and Ning Shuangying simultaneously turned their gazes toward Ma Zhongying, the Governor of Xiping Commandery.

Seeing the centipede ship charging straight toward them, the crew panicked, crying out in unison, and the vessel lost control.

South of Rio de Janeiro, the South American continent began to narrow noticeably, exiting the tropical climate zone.

On the wooden pole beside the Naiman horseman hung a black pentagram flag, embroidered in gold thread with a beast-headed knight—the war god Suleida.

Bai Tian charged in recklessly, showing no sign whatsoever of having discovered an ambush.

If Wang Shuang were present, she would surely feel a pang of reflection: the two simple conditions Jiang Xuan had just spoken aloud were precisely the lifelong dream of the old Prince of Su, Zhao Changgong.

The first negotiation ended in acrimony! Yu Liuming had anticipated this outcome; after all, international negotiations were nothing but “demand the sky, bargain for the ground”—how could any agreement be reached in “harmonious and friendly atmosphere” from the very start?

Mo Song watched the second hand of the clock slowly but powerfully complete ten revolutions; by then, the classroom seats were nearly full. The first seats of Group One and Group Four remained empty, which was precisely why the man sat in the first seat of Group One.

“That’s true.” Mo Song smiled and scratched his head. Just then, a flood of memories surged into his mind; after spending a moment skimming through those memories—or rather, those images—Mo Song’s willpower strengthened slightly, and he learned to conceal his true thoughts.

Yi Fanlü refused to acknowledge him, pretending not to hear, staring straight ahead without a single glance aside, never pausing, walking steadily forward.