Volume One, Chapter 47: Secretary Lin Is Nothing but a Cunning Merchant Profiting Off Our Hard Work

Xia Zhiyuan was in pain all day, and it was only by evening that she finally felt some relief.

Yet those scoundrels had the nerve to send word through Chen Jing, asking her to meet them in the cornfield that night.

Having relayed the message, Chen Jing was deeply worried. “Xia, did those men hurt you? Should we call the police to arrest them?”

Before the words had fully left her lips, Xia Zhiyuan slapped her outright.

The diplomatic mission to Nanzhao had returned, but the one leading them was not the Fourth Princess, Ximen Jinyuan, but Li Feiliang.

He despised the feeling—it was the prelude to the loss of Lingzi energy. The Star Spirit clan, adept at controlling Lingzi, had never faced such a situation, but lately, this sense of instability seemed to grow ever more frequent.

“Do you look down on me?” Ned’s voice was earnest. “I want to defeat you fair and square. Don’t act as if you’re doing me a favor! Don’t give me reason to despise you!” The gentle image he usually projected was gradually morphing into something wild and unhinged. Now, everyone could see he wasn’t joking.

Even Murong Yinzhu seemed more pleasing to the eye; her becoming empress would be enough to vex Yin Luoxuan. Those who resisted Yin Luoxuan were naturally glad to see such developments.

Shen He Yi turned once more, pulling her tightly into his embrace, his face cold and silent.

Chen Song, who had been joking, thought something was blocking the entrance to his house, and hurried outside. Li Chen followed at a leisurely pace. The moment he saw the car, he recognized it—it could only be Su Ya.

He raised a hand to touch her face, smiling gently. “Forgive me, Qingmu… I couldn’t help myself…” As he spoke, he took a deep breath, gripped the dagger’s handle with both hands, and drew it out forcefully. Yao Qingmu, though untrained in medicine, knew from common sense that pulling out a knife like this was tantamount to suicide.

But Helian He Yi’s situation was quite the opposite. She’d heard the old dowager had summoned not only He Ya but counted her among them as well, proof that she still held some influence with the old lady.

Now, her thoughts were enigmatic and elusive; whether she loved her or not seemed almost irrelevant.

To them, the people of the Shadow Wolf clan’s foolish devotion to loyalty and comradeship—willing to let a mission fail just to protect their companions—was pure idiocy. It was a weakness, not a virtue.

The majestic palace, with its patrolling elite soldiers, left the two utterly awestruck.

Among the newly updated content, Ye Fei was most concerned with the Evil Value. This system infuriated him. When he was marked as a red name, it was clearly the other party who tried to kill him. He acted first to eliminate the threat, yet his Evil Value increased. It was maddening.

“Before I die, I want to ask you something. Are you a god?” The long-haired man gazed bewildered at Lin Feng, his mind adrift, even imagining Lin Feng as a deity punishing evil.

Getting out of bed, Soro walked a few steps and realized his wounds had somehow healed. His strength returned, and he felt no trace of discomfort within.

His voice rose a bit too high, and the moment he spoke, all eyes around him snapped to attention.

Compared to Shen Qiang, these men were the real bosses, truly wealthy.

Six enormous battle-axes struck the deck before him almost simultaneously, smashing through the boards. Cracks radiated outward across the deck.

“Let me tell you something—Wu Nianzhong, that rich woman, is actually Zhu Xunjiang’s maternal aunt…” Fang Meiling said.

For Luo Youge, once she meddled in Feng Xiruo’s affairs, the truth about Feng Xiruo’s death would resurface, and her identity as a descendant of the Shadow Clan would inevitably be exposed.

Xu Zhihu, having dealt with his guests, still wore his court robes as he entered, carrying a chill. He sat far away, not approaching, but in good spirits—his eldest son had behaved admirably, not crying or fussing, obedient as ever.

Retreat to regroup? When would he rise again? Zuo Chen had lived five hundred years, not in vain. Everyone knew that failure was easy, but sometimes, preserving one’s dignity was vital, and then filling the inside anew.

Since Penglai had its own reasons, he didn’t make things difficult. He persuaded the Heavenly King to rescind his decree, and the matter faded away.

This was not a competition between teams; it was more like a trial. Treasure would appear in the Bean Sea at intervals, prompting everyone to fight for it.

If they needed to measure value, one couldn’t blame Qianli. Wolves, with their longer history than humans and so much inherited knowledge, and yet Qianli still struggled to learn it all.

Golden hair and bright eyes narrowed—if anything happened to Qiao Meimei, he’d slaughter those bastards without mercy.

With the most powerful and terrifying forces between heaven and earth, he forged the Dao realm. This was merely the fundamental technique—worthy indeed of its reputation for altering fate.

This was the only concession she could make, seemingly the sole solution to the matter. Even if Zhao Ge thought of it, he might not have voiced it, much less conceived it in the first place. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been mired in self-reproach.

Xu Wen gave a cold smile. Now that the Supreme Elders of the Ancient Demon Sect had been drawn out, the three Grand Elders were no longer needed.

In front of strangers, Wo Ling Tiezai gave him, the manager, some face; in private, none at all.

The two stood less than six meters apart—a replicated “Throat-Slashing Battle” was more than enough.

Qin Lang chuckled, his body swiftly blending into the wind, his presence completely concealed. Compared to Haiziin of the Saint Realm, he was like a ghost, which led to all the Night Ninja squads charging at Haiziin.

At such a terrifying speed, time itself seemed to halt. The passage stretched endlessly, like a kaleidoscope filled with stars.

Suddenly, thunder roared, a soul-shaking sound lashed violently at their eardrums.

“Interesting—you can actually withstand my attack. Good. I want to see just how many you can endure.” The Gladiator Prince’s lips curled into a playful smile as he strode directly toward Lin Feng.

Surrounded, Chen Changsheng and his companions suddenly saw familiar faces—it was Long Ye and others, long unseen.

But if even such people could not be saved, what hope was there for someone like him?

Long Ye nodded, waved casually, and twisted Zhao Tai’s arm again, tossing him onto a floating platform in the Ancient Nether Domain. Instantly, countless people pounced, nearly tearing Zhao Tai apart.

Bai Hong stared at him with wide eyes, uncertain of his intentions. The more she watched, the more uneasy she felt. Deep down, she suspected the villain before her was plotting more mischief, and her delicate brows furrowed involuntarily.