Volume One, Chapter 37: Beat Him to Death

The family put on a cheerful front, exchanging laughs and banter, but in reality, each of them felt a heavy burden in their hearts.

With no strength left to continue the fight, he wasted no time and relied on his light-foot skills to flee. The pursuers behind him followed relentlessly. His escape route had originally been aimed toward the courtyard of the Night Enchantress, but remembering something, he suddenly turned and darted off in a completely different direction.

In his brief remarks, he used three different forms of address—“Lord District Chief,” then “District Chief Li,” and finally “Mr. Li”—a shift that sounded lazy and carried a distinct air of cynicism.

At this point, Yun Zhe did not know what to say, for she realized he was indeed avoiding her.

After that incident, everyone in the Dragon Hall Society dared not utter a single word; they went about their business with trembling caution, terrified of making even the slightest mistake.

“What does that matter? Don’t you still have me?” Ye Tian offered a wry smile, yet his expression betrayed a glimmer of self-assurance.

Caine Ironhoof drew a long-handled battle axe larger than his own bovine frame and swung it with a roar. The gale force generated by the motion sent Vitruvius rolling across the ground like a fallen leaf.

Princess Jingyi stood up and turned away in a huff. Meng Liangfan only then realized that his previous words had angered her. That was why she had been picking a fight over nothing, nitpicking his beard just to have something to say.

“You…” In an instant, Sato Ichiro’s eyes widened, his hands flying to his throat, but it was too late. He stumbled back less than two meters before collapsing to the ground.

The Prince chuckled, his smile radiant and seemingly harmless, yet to Wei Guofang, this expression was undoubtedly the call of a demon. Even now, Wei Guofang felt a lingering sense of fear toward the Prince.

Yuan Ling did not resist this sensation; instead, he let it carry him, and before long, he drifted off to sleep.

Yet, despite everything, the lotus throne had not moved a single inch, continuing to block the path of Song Qianshi, Hai Dalong, and the Eight-Armed Ape.

Although it was an examination for admission to the immortal sect, to outsiders, it seemed rather dull—little more than climbing stairs. Furthermore, once their children stepped onto the stone stairs, they vanished from sight. Gradually, the onlookers’ conversation shifted to the five immortals.

Yuan Ling, disregarding the fact that his physical body had reached its limit, roared in fury, but that sound did not echo again.

The immortals who had been queuing up had already fled far away, for they knew they could not withstand the Immortal Lord’s wrath. Some began to gloat, watching the spectacle with amusement, while others even started taking bets—not on who would win or lose, but on how many moves Yuan Ling could survive against the Immortal Lord.

But after experiencing it once, then twice, you slowly grow accustomed to it and eventually learn to accept it.

In the face of such destructive power, the entire arena was reduced to ruins. All that remained were the gasps of awe from the bystanders.

Yuan Ling waited a moment for a reply, but when none came, he let out a heavy sigh and walked out of the inn, feeling somewhat desolate.

This was the first time Yuan Ling had sensed the presence of life in the Underworld, and the vitality was so vibrant that he was caught off guard, standing there momentarily stunned.

The young man paid his respects to Elder Madam Lin and exchanged a few pleasantries before turning slightly to bow to Lin Sixian.

Taking advantage of Mo Jingze’s absence, he spread benevolence throughout the Illusionary Truth Realm, steadily building his reputation with the sole intent of successfully inciting their civil war.

She knew Wang Ren was merely a servant, yet she dared not even ask him to fan her, especially not in the current circumstances.

Hua Fenglan’s pupils trembled. The scene in the Imperial Garden flashed before her eyes, and a surge of fire seemed to burn through her internal organs. She shook her head violently, “Do you think I don’t know what you’re planning? You are nothing but a mole for the Wuping Kingdom. You want to destroy the Chuyi Kingdom and ruin the Emperor.”

“Mad Dragon Encampment!” A black hole immediately appeared in front of Li Chengfeng, instantly absorbing the lightning bolt that had been hurtling toward him.

Mo Lingfeng—that man was simply a lucky bastard to be so favored by the Goddess King Nishang.

“Great Grandmother, that Pei woman is truly detestable! How dare she be so disrespectful to you!” Huan Niang handed her a cup of hot tea, speaking with indignation.

Especially those innocent eyes and that furtive demeanor—it was clear they were terrified that their conversation might be overheard.

By the afternoon, the Emperor arrived at the Yaohua Palace again, but she simply kept the doors shut. The Emperor asked the servants at the entrance, but they could offer no reason. Enraged, he burst inside, his heart full of fury, but upon seeing Hua Fenglan’s red, swollen eyes, he felt a pang of heartache. He asked in a fluster, “Feng’er, what is wrong? Have you been crying?”

As she pondered, though everything was deeply distressing, she was ultimately exhausted, and before she knew it, she fell into a deep sleep.

Qin Yundi held her cold hand. She was right beside him, yet it felt as if he could no longer see her. She stared blankly ahead, lost in thought, her eyes filled with a profound and tranquil haze.

“Pass an order to Jia Xu, the Governor of the North, and Zhang Xiu, the Commander of the Northern Army, that they are not to intervene; they must guard their respective cities. Zhang Liao of Fengyi is also forbidden from crossing the Loess Plateau to provide relief to the North. I shall go to rescue them myself.” Lu Bu instructed Zhou Shenglie to convey the orders.

Qian Duoduo hesitated for a long time, wanting to say something, but in the end, she kept her mouth shut. She decided not to speak of uncertain things, lest she give everyone false hope.

Feng Ling had been lying on the ground, but he slowly sat up. Though he was dead drunk, he held his liquor well; his face was not flushed, and he did not ramble. In front of others, he appeared even colder and more reserved than usual.