Chapter Thirty-Two: The Ways of the World

Luo Manor, central axis, main courtyard.

Madam Cui reclined askew in the seat of honor within the main hall, her right elbow resting upon a low armrest.

Below the dais knelt a man dressed as a guard, appearing to be in his twenties. He wore an indigo nomad’s tunic and black, upturned leather boots.

Yet, perhaps from a long journey just completed, the guard’s complexion was wan, and specks of mud clung to the hem of his clothes and his boots.

“The news is true? The general has truly agreed—”

Yan Haoyue seized the sword thrust at him in his palm; bright red blood streamed down the blade’s hilt, yet he seemed to feel no pain, sneering as he fixed his eyes on the attacker.

Mei Yang’s heart pounded furiously, astonished by the orange aura swirling in her core. With all her will, she struggled to break free from the ribbons entangling her. With a loud shout, golden light burst from within, and with a resounding crack, every ribbon snapped apart. Instantly, Mei Yang felt a surge of clarity and ease throughout her body.

At her words, those around her froze in astonishment, then offered only kind smiles and said nothing more.

A bizarre roar erupted from the mouth of the Sin Reaper. In this near-mad state of battle, its power seemed fully unleashed. Yet, even so, against the supreme gods and demons arrayed against it, it struggled merely to delay the inevitable, unable to gain the upper hand.

“With Meng Qiu and the Black Corrosion Dragon here, no other Sin Immortal faction would dare meddle, even if they coveted a share,” Kong Lin said coldly.

Once again, everything returned to the snowy mountain peak. The Ice Dragon had brought them back. Mei Yang felt a trace of melancholy in her heart. Hand in hand with Feng Ji, she came to the edge of the precipice. Together, they stood in the wind and snow, gazing down as if searching for something. But in the swirling blizzard, nothing but endless snow could be seen.

No matter what Gu Yanran said, no one’s attitude toward Sui Feng had softened. Forced, Gu Yanran could only wear a forced smile, as if preparing to feign cheerfulness.

Lin Xian's few words, together with Wang Lin, left Monk Huikong speechless, and Lin Xian couldn’t help but feel pleased, glancing at Wang Lin with a hint of approval.

Ji Yeli shook her head and declined, “No, I’m not hungry. You go on ahead.” With that, she sat upon her meditation cushion, legs crossed, eyes closed, already deep in contemplation.

“I hope you can carry us to the Shaba Continent. And tell me, has the Demon Beast passed through these waters?” Liu Hao inquired.

“I understand. I’ll return to cultivate immediately,” Dantai Mingyue responded at once. She instantly grasped the situation: since Ji Xuanyuan had already tried to kill her, he would not give up easily. Even after a transformation, she was still no match for him.

“Don’t joke. I’m serious,” Xiao Lang said with a bitter smile. But the laughter faded, for there was not a trace of jest in the other man’s eyes.

Now, the most pressing matter was to fuse the divinity and master this god-king’s body. Yet Wang Biao and Vidorette’s ferocious assault allowed him no leisure to focus, leaving him not only furious but also helpless.

“Old man, are you looking down on us beastkin?” Wolf Boss was the first to object. Together with two other hulking figures, they formed a triangular encirclement, trapping Old Zhuo in the middle.

With this reason, Father Liang and Mother Liang could no longer refuse. As parents, they knew well how close their son and Ling’er were. Apart from not yet being wed, the two were as good as husband and wife already. Besides, they were fond of Ling’er themselves. It simply wouldn’t do for them not to attend this gathering.

Last night, before beginning the forging, Liang Dong had already said he was making a weapon. And today, a whip appeared in Mu Ling’er’s hand—the outcome was clear.