Chapter 88 Scattering Money

At this thought, the bearded man’s face drained of all color, replaced entirely by contempt. He collapsed to the ground, pointed at the house behind him, and said, “Fine, take the house, do whatever you want with it. I’m just worried there won’t be enough for all of you to split.” Finishing, he stared blankly at the mushroom in his arms, and tears began to fall, heavy and silent, from the eyes of this grown man—a sight to behold.

With just a single indifferent question, Tang Lichuan left the middle-aged man speechless. If the man truly wanted to argue over the literal distinction of “man and demon,” Tang Lichuan would simply sneer and tell him to go play elsewhere.

Though the reason why Emperor Qianyuan favored Chu Tiange so much remained a mystery, it didn’t stop Tang Lichuan from making the rational choice: in the Qianyuan Royal Court, one might oppose anyone—except the emperor himself.

“All in! All in!” Suddenly, a shout came from behind. Jiao Gongxian turned to see his younger brother, Jiao Gongcheng.

A thought flashed through Tang Lichuan’s mind. Not only did he urge on the power of the Six Yang Mystic Flame Sword, but he himself soared into the air, surrounded by raging tongues of fire, transforming himself into a blazing red sun.

“You! You all…” Li Ruoxi’s cheeks flushed bright red. Yet what Wei Wuji said did seem to make sense. For a moment, she found herself at a loss for words.

Just then, footsteps sounded outside and Du Er hastily stopped his exaggerated chewing.

The Daoist Qingfeng immediately understood and took his leave. As soon as he spoke, the others rose to bid their farewells as well. After everyone left, Baihua Mingyang’s face darkened as he asked what had happened.

“Lord Li Wu!” The moment they saw the white-haired old man walking slowly toward them, Guan Hou beside him turned pale with fright.

Fang Rong burst out laughing. Fang Rong, an inner disciple of Yuanyang Sect, commanded even Zhang Heng’s respect, who would call him “Senior Brother.” He had only missed the Hundred Flowers Gathering due to his recent seclusion.

The Disc of Fate: it is the Eight Gates, further calculated with the twenty-four solar terms, using methods of leap placement to determine the Nine Phases of Yin and Yang.

“No, it’s not like that, it’s not!” Jane tried to explain desperately, but she saw hatred in Alan’s eyes, where there was once love. Was this the end for her?

That day, apart from practicing the breathing and energy-cultivation methods from the Ink Manual, Wei Liao also began to teach Chen Sheng some sword and blade techniques.

“Uncle, I hope you’ve been well. I, Shimin, have been waiting here for some time.” Suddenly, the voice of Li Shimin rang out.

“Come, follow me. Perhaps the people there know the way out,” Yang Jian said hopefully.

No one knew how much time had passed before Li Xingran opened his eyes. Mo Jinyang gazed at the faint flame, lost in thought.

Zhao Ruzhi glanced at Lu Shuiyi with gentle, caring eyes. “Wait here for me,” he said—a statement almost comical, considering Lu Shuiyi was far stronger than he, yet he spoke as if Lu Shuiyi were a burden.

For an instant, the monkey’s expression was a spectacle, but no one paid him any attention; all eyes were fixed on Ma Peng with a scrutinizing gaze.

Cao Ge’s kisses no longer confined themselves to her lips; he began to trail kisses over her cheeks, down her jaw, and onto her neck, each more fervent than the last, as if releasing a long-suppressed desire.

Though his words were slurred and indistinct, if one listened closely, it was still possible to make them out.

Perhaps because of the many mountains around Changsha, the rain there came as suddenly as it went. When Zhang Peng cried miserably, he hadn’t heard the rain yet. By the time he realized others had stopped shouting because they’d been caught in a sudden downpour, the world outside was already shrouded in a curtain of white.

It felt as if she had become Wang Can’s pet cat—pampered, indulged, regarded with the fondness reserved for a beloved pet.