Chapter 114: Collaborating with He Zheyu

Before Mo Qinghan could utter these words, Zhao Siyu carried on his face and in his demeanor an insufferable air of superiority, identical to the aura Zhao Yiya had exuded when she was last seen. Mo Qinghan silently mocked within: “Perhaps this is the ugly disposition that the Zhao family cannot shed from their very bones.”

Zhao Siyu had long believed that the indecent rumors about his mother were concocted by the woman before him. Already harboring hostility towards her, the recent scorn that mocked both his mother and himself, and that too in front of his subordinates, stirred a deep humiliation in him—he had never before been so insulted by a woman.

Instantly, his expression darkened like a gathering storm. Taking a step forward, he paused briefly, then swiftly seized Mo Qinghan by the neck, his face twisted with ferocity.

Cheng Yan realized his mistake and was filled with regret and frustration. Distracted and troubled, he lifted his head and downed another glass of wine before following after.

The mysterious iron sword of Iron Sword Manor was a legendary weapon famed throughout the martial world. When Jin Wancheng wielded it, the line between man and sword blurred; countless sword rays shimmered fiercely in the sky, accompanied by the sharp whistles of blades cutting through the air.

Mo Sanwei shielded Xiao Zan, while the Four Immortal Flowers carried Hua Xiangrong’s lifeless body alongside Xiao Yingying to the side. Yang Yizhi restrained Jin Tianze, Shanggong Yun stood guard with his sword beside Ling Xiaozi and Ke Qingqing, and Xiao Yang guarded the corpses of the two monks, Tianlong and Kongming. None advanced, watching the battle cautiously while guarding against any treacherous attacks.

Yet, facing Zhou Nan, there was an inexplicable fear deep in the soul—a dread, a reluctance to meet his gaze, a feeling of overwhelming intimidation that compelled submission.

“After the bell tolls thrice, proceed straight to the inner gate. I am Zhang Li, thirteenth-generation disciple of the Medicine King Valley, now an outer gate steward. You may call me senior brother,” Zhang Li announced cheerfully to the young man standing before the Earth Emperor Bell.

“N-no…” Jin Lan’s first word barely escaped his teeth before he felt the chilling aura radiating from Ye Qingjue, so cold it immediately silenced him.

Ye Qingjue had never remarried; he no longer listened to Qu’er’s songs—no one could truly sing the sorrow of Wusheng.

Beyond the eighth chain lay a towering mountain that pierced the Ninth Heaven, spanning two seas. This mountain was even more precipitous and forbidding. Its body blazed red like flames, with patches of fiery embers flickering on the rocks. Paths were scarce, leaving only massive rocky outcrops.

Ma Tian, pondering this, glanced at the other three who nodded in agreement. With resolve hardening in his heart, he slowly approached the bodies of the two deceased beneath countless watchful eyes, removed the storage pouch hanging from his waist, erased its spiritual imprint, and tossed it to the lead male cultivator.

Earlier in the carriage, Bai Mozi and Bai Zhuozi had already inquired about Tang Tang’s condition, their hearts heavy with sorrow though they showed no sign of it.

A terrifying, earth-shattering power erupted ceaselessly; the bodies of the three were no match for Ye Fantian’s might.

After his thorough clearing, Hongyuan’s most pressing need now was for stones—large, high-quality black stones.

Early the next morning, Chu Li arrived at the hundred-acre herb field behind the thatched cottage. Yes, a hundred acres, and within it grew many rare medicinal herbs. Chu Li found it curious that Old Tang, a master craftsman, would cultivate such herbs.

“You’re awake. Go prepare some hot water, and also…” Yan Qiu blushed slightly; in modern times, she would have been shy about buying sanitary products, always concealing them in opaque bags on the way home.

Chu Li’s spiritual sense detected a spring bubbling forth steadily—a spirit spring within the pool, its waters sourced from here. Clearly, a modest spiritual stone vein lay beneath. Having achieved her purpose, Chu Li returned to the cave.

As dusk approached, at the villa’s gate, Ruan Shiyan anxiously awaited until Song Zehan finally returned.

Only Jiang Lan and Edward, who Jiang Lan held by the collar, showed no change. They hid quietly among the crowd already inspected, heads bowed slightly.

Sensing Ziyue’s subtle movement, Qing Hong turned his head. Their eyes met, and his heart was instantly captivated by those vast, starry eyes filled with worry and tenderness. The imposing aura surrounding Qing Hong dissipated into the air, leaving his heart warmly aflame.