Chapter Eighty-Six: No! I Will Marry You
The water was no longer as hot as before, now well within Mo Qinghan's tolerance. She let the spilled water slide down her wrist, her face showing a hint of surprise as her eyes widened, unblinking, fixed on Shang Linjun who was so close. The room was so quiet that the sound of their heartbeats echoed between them. Shang Linjun gently blew a breath at Mo Qinghan, making her face itch. She set the cup on the side table, moving only her hand, her body remaining still. She withdrew her chin from his fingers, the corners of her lips curving slightly as she drawled, “Is it another third party?”
When Shang Linjun heard her question, his lips curled into an inscrutable smile. Without hesitation, he replied, “No, I’m marrying you.”
She watched his every movement intently. Her cheeks, untouched by powder or rouge, were pallid in an unhealthy way.
Both of them had been drinking. He Chuze didn’t drive but hailed a taxi instead. In the back seat, Tang Xinmu clung to him like a sloth to a tree, arms wrapped around his neck, refusing to let go. Helpless, He Chuze could do nothing but hold her in his arms throughout the ride.
I didn’t look at him. I walked straight out, but after a few steps, as the elevator doors were about to close, I reached back and pressed the button on the wall. The doors, just about to meet, slowly opened again. The man in black lifted his face to look at me.
Looking at that plump, fair face, still bearing a trace of baby fat, like creamy jelly, I couldn’t resist leaning in and planting a kiss with a soft “mwah.”
My senior brother sprinkled salt in my wounds, and Zhang Tianqiu feigned maturity with a smile, hoping that the Fire Lord, who was currently flirting with Qian Fancheng, might notice him.
Mu Xue and He Yu chatted and laughed in the room. Before long, Mu Qing and Mu Yuan arrived. Clearly, Mu Qing still didn’t know He Yu’s preferences; she was dressed as flamboyantly as ever and received the same frosty look as Mu Ling.
After only a few exchanges, Wang Chu realized she was no match for her opponent and decisively called for help.
One in each hand—no matter how many ghosts there were, it wasn’t enough for me to tear apart. The wind wall swirling around me grew fiercer, the edges of the gusts slicing by, one of them grazing my cheek.
The two saw each other open fire without a word and hurriedly dodged to the side, ducking and weaving in panic as bullets swept past.
“Madam, it seems the young master is heading to the lady’s chambers,” Chunhe whispered from behind.
The scene fell into utter silence. Every warrior present understood the weight of those few words—the hatred between the Asakura family and the Pure Land sect of Kaga ran so deep it defied description. For sixty years, the two houses had been locked in an unending tug-of-war between Echizen and Kaga.
Fan Xian remained silent, knowing that this great master was giving him a second lesson, not through words but through actions, through a scene on this long street that was both shocking and sorrowful. To reach the level of a grandmaster, one must not only shed their clothes but also abandon their emotions.
In the Third Company, Qin Fen was undeniably low-key. Yet none of the new recruits ever overlooked his constant discretion.
As for the slow attack frequency, there was simply no remedy. Otherwise, no one else would stand a chance. But in Bagnell’s view, its ultra-long range compensated for its slow attack speed. What’s more, such range meant they could choose ambush points across a much wider area.
Among everyone, it was Princess Yuhua who first achieved success. A month after Lin Fan’s breakthrough, she too reached the fourth level, becoming second in strength only to Lin Fan within the entire corps.
The confidence etched at the corner of Qin Wentian’s eyes suggested that, for him, fighting Hei Feng was a foregone victory—a battle meant to humiliate the Yan Yuan Immortal King.
The shock Hades felt was a hundred times greater than that of Shangguan Chuanqi. Just moments ago, the entire Federation’s uproar formed a unique momentum, far surpassing the millions of spiritual imprints left in the Sahara Desert.
“To think that Qin Yuanfeng’s son is such a sharp-tongued young man,” an elder remarked sarcastically.