Chapter 36 Securing the Contract with Evergrand Group

Zhao Hui picked up the bottle, opened it, and poured the wine into his glass. Swirling the crimson liquid, he walked over to Ye Feng.
“Ye Feng, I bet you’ve never tasted such a fine wine before!”
Ye Feng lifted his head to look at Zhao Hui, a trace of disdain flashing in his eyes.
As the mighty Dragon King of the underworld, what rare vintage had he not sampled? A mere fifty-thousand-yuan bottle of wine was hardly worthy of his lips.
…
As the saying goes, great concealment lies in the busiest places. Relying on her Cherrytree Green Robe, Yin Miaomiao disguised herself as a solitary cultivator of the Golden Core stage, rented a private room at the Tea House, and arrived punctually to check in.
If this attack had landed on Ning Moya’s head, it would have exploded in a cloud of blood, his body torn asunder in the same grisly mist.
Murong Ke’s eyes flickered; he withdrew abruptly, forcing himself to watch as Wei Yaoyao collapsed, sprawling helplessly across the dark, long-pile carpet.
His sudden movement clearly stunned the group of young men, including Zhang Long and the internet café attendant who was still glaring at Ye Chun.
Wang Taofen had no idea that the person he was holding at gunpoint was the most fearsome Reaper the world had ever known. Ye Chun frowned, surprised at this fool’s audacity, but she didn’t make a move, instead following his instructions for the time being.
Xu Qinglin nodded in agreement with his sister’s words, although he wanted to watch the two of them go in before leaving himself.
“Don’t worry, I won’t give her a red envelope. I know how much you hate her—calling her your nemesis wouldn’t be an exaggeration—and I would never do anything to upset you. We’re family, after all, and of course we should stand together.” Wei Zhedong hurried to reassure Xiang Xue before she could get angry.
After all, he’d spent nearly ten years in Zhonghai City, plotting and toiling, investing endless energy and devotion.
Then the late emperor passed away, and Zhuo Yu ascended the throne at seventeen. Because of his youth, the Empress Dowager and a council of capable ministers ruled in his stead, leaving him a puppet emperor for seven or eight years.
At this moment, the emperor, his face filled with contentment, prepared to return to the palace, while the assembled ministers lined up to offer their congratulations.
“Heh, we’re all from the streets. If you want to come, just come and see if I won’t chop you up and feed you to the dogs!” Bai Yu gritted his teeth and shouted at Gao Xiong.
It turned out the stronghold had a Chief Scout, responsible for all intelligence both inside and outside the camp. All matters concerning the surrounding counties and towns, as well as the robbery of passing merchants, fell under the Chief Scout’s purview.
But where was Tian Chengsi’s bedchamber? Hongxian grabbed a guard, holding a sword to his throat. The guard, terrified out of his wits, obediently revealed the location. To be safe, Hongxian pressed a sleep acupoint on the man before letting him go.
Though everyone in the Ming Dynasty knew of such things, knowledge alone didn’t stop people from doing them—indeed, the Blue Turbans had worked hard to make this the new “world.”
But behind him, two extraordinary-level warriors from the catacombs pursued like death itself. He had no choice but to run; he had to unleash his spiritual power, or they’d catch up to him in no time.
She opened the golden box and found inside rare treasures, a great golden seal, and a slip of paper whose writing seemed to record a date of birth. Hongxian wrapped the box in a cloth and slung it over her back. Before leaving, she gazed at the sleeping Tian Chengsi, filled with emotion.
At 5:39 in the morning, Geng Haoshi finally regained some strength. Taking advantage of the fact that his five roommates—who had been out all night doing who-knows-what—hadn’t yet returned, he dragged his weary body to start cleaning up.
Once Song Xiaowei died, He Haisheng came forward to testify: Song Xiaowei had confessed. With that, no one would ever suspect that Song Xiaowei’s death was in any way connected to Yan Shengli.
The mad monk, afraid that Miaoxuan would make things difficult for his disciple upon returning, said nothing about Hongxian having already mastered the ethereal arts.
The others weren’t as gluttonous as he was, but after such a long time without meat, they too had become somewhat malnourished.