Chapter Thirty-Four: Uproar!

Lou Dalang laughed, “No beef?” In the past, even if there truly wasn’t any, a single command from him would have sent someone to slaughter a cow on the spot. But now, they used “none” as an excuse. Clearly, these people were not just opportunists swaying with the wind—they were seizing the moment to stir up trouble.

Lou Dalang didn’t even bother to change his clothes. He grabbed his horsewhip and headed straight for the kitchen.

“Dalang! Wait a moment!” called his chief maid.

If Zheng Xiyuan had wanted to hide deliberately, Zhao Zishan would never have found him. But at that moment, his attention wavered, and with Zhao Zishan’s mastery as a Divine Grace Magician, it was no longer difficult for her to sense his presence.

“Thank you, Minister, for your support!” Xu Maosun fully understood what Zhong Nan was implying. In truth, he had long been awaiting such a day.

“Guard Leng, where is the young master?” As Meixiang stepped out, she saw Leng Feng standing outside the Dragon Scale Flying Gate, arms crossed against the wall, and asked him.

A gentle white glow enveloped the Golden Thunder Tiger’s front left leg—the injury vanished in an instant. Looking at Tianluo, the giant beast stomped its massive paw, surrounded by the corpses of magic soldiers. Just a single step crushed another wave of those who hadn’t managed to escape.

He sat where she often did, and at his right hand lay her favorite pipa. One string was entangled and broken. Carefully, he loosened the tuning peg, removing the string bit by bit. It coiled in his palm, the metallic sheen pulsing in the light—a glimmer that plucked at the strings of his own heart. The lingering music drifted on, but now, there was no one left who could truly understand.

After Zhuge Jin finished speaking, his eyes fixed unblinkingly on Zhuge Liang, afraid to miss even the slightest sign. He was so intent that he didn’t notice—even his once unwavering conviction had imperceptibly trembled in that moment.

The violent earthquake had subsided. The nine radiant cauldrons returned to their ancient, desolate silence. The only sound in the vast altar was the heavy breathing of those present; the quiet was almost unbearable. Only Qiu Huiyan understood the reason.

Wang Kang hurried to say, “Whatever you need, just say the word. I’m willing to serve you as a beast of burden, if that is what you wish.” With that, he nearly knelt to kowtow.

On the long avenue, at the start of summer, Chu Xia did not glance at the displays lining both sides. She simply marked her steps, one after another—knowing that from now on, she could not afford a single misstep, for she understood well the strength of her adversary.

Leaving the villa, Zheng Xiyuan summoned the Dark Moon. His figure became a streak of violet light, soaring into the heavens. In the blink of an eye, sword in hand, he had reached beyond the walls of Obsidian City.

The hostess, Wang Keke, made her entrance in a set of black evening wear—solemn and restrained, not at all the avant-garde style her designs usually showcased. Yet it suited her character perfectly. An Feng stepped forward with words of praise. The other guests were equally impressed—truly, she was worthy of her reputation as a designer and fashion creator.

The emperor pondered for a long moment before speaking in a grave tone, “Indeed, it was my own oversight. With the empress confined and the inner palace without a head, it is necessary to appoint a suitable person to take charge.” As he spoke, he lifted his gaze and cast a cool glance at Consort An, standing quietly to the side—his mind clearly already made up.

Although they had both served at Real Madrid, Cristiano Ronaldo had not yet joined the club when they left.

The sovereign had once promised Qingshuang to paint another bird onto the scroll, but that promise, too, had been left unfulfilled. With his heart elsewhere, it seemed the matter had slipped from his mind. Though Qingshuang never spoke of it, the unfinished scroll still lay on the side table—a silent message to the palace staff that she was waiting for the emperor to return and complete the painting.

Qinqin noticed that Consort An seemed preoccupied and did not disturb her. She quietly gathered the copper basin and petals used for her facial, then slipped away without a sound.

“If this thing is so extraordinary, why don’t you take it back with you?” Xu Chen raised his head to look at the five, his expression calm.