Chapter 28: Yang Yongzhang

Cao Bin wore a grave expression as he slowly opened the door.

The moment the door was unlatched, the burly man’s face lit up with delight. As expected—there was cold air. A rush of coolness could be distinctly felt, in stark contrast to the sweltering seventy degrees outside, while inside it was barely above ten.

He then sauntered away, swaying his hips. As he brushed past Shu Yu, her steps faltered and a subtle, meaningful smile touched her lips.

She herself was at a loss for how to comfort Bai Xiaoxiao. Qiao Siyi’s attitude was uncertain, and Wen Ran remained oblivious to the situation.

Ahead, a half-formed, translucent water cube was taking shape, just one last facet away from completion.

The conference hall was on the second floor of the manor’s main building. After dining in the restaurant on the ground floor, the attendees could go straight upstairs, which was quite convenient.

Though these prodigies had not ascended to the Immortal Realm by virtue of their formidable talents, with enough diligence, they could still catch up to Bai Xiaofei before them.

She planned to confess to Du Yumei that she was now unemployed that very night; she couldn’t possibly keep rising early every day—especially in the depths of winter, it was simply too tormenting.

When Zhu Houwei got in the carriage, he saw both his sister-in-law and younger sister. The two women were dressed in white scholar’s robes, their heads adorned with square caps, each possessing a refined, striking beauty that far surpassed Zhu Houzhao and his brother. Nodding to Bai Yulian, Zhu Houwei greeted her as sister-in-law, to which she returned a nod of acknowledgment.

His voice had changed too—it was no longer Old Liu’s, but his own youthful voice, clear and undistorted.

Elsewhere, at Prince Rui’s residence, after a night spent feasting in the Hall of Sweet Dew, Shu Ye was feeling satisfied and slept soundly. Hua Weiyang had risen early, and news of the Crown Prince’s recovery reached her at the first possible moment.

Jubei’s meaning was clear: he agreed to ask on his behalf, but whether he could truly help would depend on the ruling members of the family—he could not decide alone.

Listening to the solemn tone of the merman, Gu Fengchun’s face twitched involuntarily. Could the merman’s words be true? Gu Fengchun looked toward Chen Si for confirmation.

Before those formidable teams led by Qiuqiu arrived, the seats were already occupied by Old Wu, Chen Mu, and his second son.

Standing at the front were Zhang Ning, Cui Weiping, and Guan Jun—all from the General Staff Office’s Section Two.

Though a perfected cultivator was daunting, that was true only of those at the initial stage of the Tempered Energy Realm. He had long since reached the Forming Stage, his body brimming with potent Xuanhuang energy. There was no way Chu Nantian could rival him.

Gao Qiu remained silent, her gaze fixed on the military uniform before her. In truth, she was seriously considering Holland’s words.

That war had cost Chao Ying everything—even her carriage, ceremonial staff, and the staff of office for envoys had all been abandoned on the battlefield, leaving Ziyang to make use of them.

Ziyang chose to accept rather than grant, concerned that Yang Xing might find it humiliating—after all, heroes seldom wish to be seen accepting charity.

The enmity between the two was deep-rooted, an irreconcilable feud. Certain that neither Fang Mu nor Yan Shiji had followed, Lin Feng felt somewhat relieved. Without another word, he summoned the Celestial Sword and, employing the Vajra footwork, charged straight at Ling Yitian.

Gu Rufeng strode forward and pulled a compass from the Eight Trigrams pouch slung at his side. At first, the needle pointed calmly, but as he drew near the woods, it began to spin madly, as if it would never come to rest.

“Hello, Uncle. I’m Gao Qiu—Gao as in elegance, Qiu as in armadillo.” Despite her usual timidity, Gao Hanhang was a lady of high breeding. In front of so many eyes and such distinguished company, she maintained her composure.

For the remaining four times, Yan Luo pronounced: “Clear, rain, wind, snow.” When he said “wind,” a swirling tornado appeared, dazzling to behold. And when he uttered “snow,” the sky was filled with fluttering snowflakes, beautiful beyond words.