Volume One, Chapter 37: Can You Trust Me Just This Once?

At that moment, the Crow was utterly helpless. He severed the soul connection with the two bloodthirsty demon masks, then imprisoned them with the Ghost Netherworld Seal, forced to watch as Yan San cast his spells again and again, branding the puppet mark onto both demon masks. His feelings were a tangled mess, as if he’d personally stripped his own wife and handed her to another’s bed.

Seeing the dashing, handsome man before her, impeccably dressed in an expensive suit, Lu Xijia had already imagined a grand family drama in her mind. Whoever was plotting against him, she thought, would surely try every means to sabotage and deny it.

Speaking of this, Gu Moyun grew angry. That precious sword had been snatched from him—how was he to save face?

With the explosion, everyone present was on edge, hearts in their throats, their eyes wide. The long spear was sharp and chilling, its tip slicing the air and stirring a fierce wind as it shot toward Akra’s chest like a meteor. Yet, to his shock, the spear tip met only a fading phantom—at the point of contact, Akra’s figure had vanished.

Shui Muyan waited happily in the great hall, carefully taking in the decorations. Her favorite red adorned every corner, and she skipped about the hall, overjoyed.

When Lu Zhongde and Yu Jie heard that the two old foxes of the Han family had managed to escape calamity, they were furious. Lu Zhongde, especially, swept everything from the table onto the floor in rage.

This strike, too, was imbued with vibration, but Allen did not block it. Instead, his wings quivered, his feet struck the ground, and in an instant, he vanished.

Yi Ning turned her head to address the uncle who had just called the police. At first, she’d wanted to explain herself to the middle-aged man, but then thought better of it. Now, no matter what happened to his mother, he would blame her. If the worst happened, he would cling to her endlessly.

The height of the Ascending Sun Tower was legendary in the capital. Unless one’s lightness skill was truly perfected, there was no way to reach its summit.

For a moment, Fang Ling’er and Shangguan Wan’er were at a loss for words, not knowing how to comfort or encourage her. The most important thing now was for her to regain her strength—seeing her so frail pained them deeply.

The driver was also quite a talker. From the habits of central leaders to the trivialities of neighborhood life, he spoke with vivid detail, his tone rising and falling, occasionally interjecting a joke—he truly knew how to enliven the atmosphere.

A-Feng certainly would not press the matter further; Jiang Ming had spoken up on her behalf precisely to drive away Yu Ning and Bao Ning. Now, with the outcome she’d hoped for, she was naturally satisfied.

Qingwu sat on the swing, holding a jade flute, playing a beautiful yet faintly mournful tune.

Yue Yue ignored everything. After all, they had helped her greatly, and now she might be entangled with local hooligans—trouble could come wave after wave. No matter what Sun Xue’er said, she simply couldn’t believe Yang Lefan was a lecher.

The young man surnamed Han was momentarily taken aback, and only then began to study Zhang Yingying and Li Ning carefully. Suddenly, his gaze fixed on Zhang Yingying’s face, his eyes refusing to miss a single detail of her. Every inch, every feature was breathtaking—a beauty beyond compare.

The three took a taxi to Bentley Tower, which was packed solid. After much squeezing, they finally entered, only to find a ring set up in the center of the lobby. They wondered if they’d come to the wrong place—who would expect a ring at a job interview? It was absurd.

His first words were that he’d brought shame to Jiang Ming; hearing this, Jiang Ming’s eyes reddened, nearly moved to tears.

Cheng Jingjing fell asleep on the bed, a wooden stick still clutched in her hand. Zhuang Jing tried gently to pull it away, but couldn’t.

After this lesson, Di Chong would never dare send anyone to trouble Chu Tiao again, so Chu Tiao was no longer worried that Di Chong would cause any further mishaps.

Inside the house, Bai Zhizhao stood by the security door, watching the footage from the surveillance camera. Slowly, a trace of sorrow appeared on his face.

Gradually, the conversations downstairs turned to the disciples in purple of the Xuan Yun Sect, those who were the backbone of the sect.

“I thought the realm of Fengdu was a land of death, filled with bones and utter desolation. I never expected it to be just like the Great Wilderness, even with living creatures!” he exclaimed, gazing at the massive beast’s remains—a scaleless giant, its belly hollowed out by carrion beasts, but blood still fresh. Old Master Hui dipped a finger into the blood, tasting it thoughtfully.

At this moment, the seven of them were frantically digging through rubble around the stone pagoda. Since the collapse, Jingyang Wan’er had been full of worry, always leading the effort at the forefront.

I slowly refined the golden divine staff, carefully sensing the awe-inspiring power within, striving to make it a part of me. The entire refining process lasted a month and a half.

I ignored his astonishment and went directly with Zhao Yixian to the bedside. All these people were in a semi-comatose state—their eyes open, yet vacant and dull. But probing their bodies with spiritual sense revealed nothing amiss.

At last, Ye Lin finished arranging his pieces and withdrew from the chessboard beneath his feet, gathering all the phantom boards into one. Every piece landed on a single board, then the suspended piece finally dropped to the celestial center. The grand game, whose outline had begun in Yongzhou, at last reached its conclusion.

At the very least, only when they figured out how to deal with the spiritual energy inside Song Jiuyu’s body would they have any chance to stir up trouble.