“Don’t worry, Ruan Niang.” Prince Yuyang’s expression darkened, and without looking back, he turned and strode away. Though it was a bright spring morning with the sunlight full in her eyes, to Zhou Yunli it felt as searing as high noon in summer—so much that she nearly wept from the sting of it.

Yet at this moment it was Ye Ning giving her instructions—she was the captain of the Lan family’s bodyguards, so she needed to check with Lan Hezhang first.

Held up for the better part of the day at the bridgehead, both grooms were seething with pent-up frustration, and with the long-standing feud between their two families running deep, neither would give an inch—pride alone kept them from backing down.

The Third Prince got dead drunk at Young Master Qingqian’s residence. Young Master Qingqian had no choice but to let him stay the night.

By the time the song ended, the crowd had nearly forgotten to applaud. Seeing this, Li Chengzong couldn’t help but beam with delight, and it wasn’t until the moon had slanted well to the west that he finally had his fill of the festivities, dismissed everyone, and went to rest.

I’d better get a set of enchanted robes, Chu Du thought to himself. Wouldn’t do to grow a bit larger and burst my clothes. Having grown somewhat bigger, his clothes now felt a little snug.

“You’re the ones asking for it—once my captain gets here, none of you are getting away! Hahaha!” Just as the gleeful youth finished laughing, his foot suddenly slipped.

“Director Zhou, I came here to focus on my work, not to pick fights with any of you—you may have misunderstood something.” Ye Ning said coolly to Zhou Lin. Her main task was protecting Lan Luoxue, and she had no wish for trivial matters like this to interfere with her duties.

Amid violent tremors and fierce collisions, that enormous golden palm blazed with blinding light, the golden palm-lines upon it writhing as though a divine dragon had come back to life, before surging forward all at once, transforming into a giant golden hand that came crashing down over Chu Du, who had already been sent flying by the impact.

In Honor of Kings, some heroes come with a built-in “bias” aura by design—Jiang Ziya is a prime example.

“Yes, yes, Master, I won’t cause trouble, I won’t cause trouble.” The old man grew flustered and quickly nodded, backing away several steps.

Facing one’s tribulation wasn’t something you could dodge just by wanting to—it was bound to happen sooner or later. Just like the Sword Saint of the Unbound: the more he tried to suppress it, the fiercer the tribulation lightning became. And Qin Chuan had no intention of suppressing it either—by now he was fairly eager to enter the Immortal Realm.

His heart leapt with joy; he lifted ten pieces directly, wrapping them tightly around himself, then guided a stream of mental energy around them and began absorbing them for all he was worth.

But what left Old Master Zhao and most of the Zhao family utterly puzzled was this: why would Patriarch Chen Tuan stand before Li Chun—an utterly ordinary man—and go out of his way to explain all this history between the Zhao and Song families to him?

But once Li Jingtian revealed his identity, the Li family of Hong Kong immediately passed the news up to Old Master Li Qingtian and Old Master Li Chaoren.

Having now caught Reynold’s attention, this alone meant the Baluo Demon General couldn’t possibly treat Lin Dong poorly—after all, how would it look to Reynold if he did otherwise?

Lin Yi waved a hand and smiled faintly, finally managing to steady himself. Then, with a thought, he summoned forth one of the innate flower-seeds from within the Treasure Soul Realm.

Even Half-Step Divine Techniques varied in strength—the truly powerful ones had to be capable of summoning a phantom projection of an actual god. Techniques like the Jin family’s secret “Hundred Refinements Incantation,” while decent in their own right, paled before genuine inherited lineages.

“Y-yes, sir.” Though Steward Zhang couldn’t understand why Xu Jian wanted to see what that young man looked like, he knew better than to ask questions that clearly wouldn’t lead anywhere good. He simply nodded, handed things off to his subordinates, and followed Xu Jian out of the VIP room.

“Reporting, Captain! Beacon smoke has risen at the mouth of the valley ahead! That’s why we sounded the emergency horn!” A soldier holding a military horn ran up and respectfully reported to the captain in the dark green robe.

As mentioned before, it didn’t matter if people were killed or injured in the arena—but Marquis Xiahou hadn’t killed or injured anyone; she’d merely toyed with them. If she were executed for that, the realm might not accept it as just.

The bamboo grove south of the city kept growing, and no one knew that on the day he’d been taken away, Jin Qingping had hung up that treasured painting of pine and bamboo, right in the main hall of the bamboo cottage, where the spring breeze could reach it.

“You’re telling me this story first—are you afraid I’ll go see Xu Xin and use force?” Wu Jian thought it over before asking.

Yang Jun, Yang Yao, and Yang Ji had all been wounded and needed to recuperate at home—some still bore visible injuries on their faces, which wouldn’t look proper entering the capital; who enters the capital looking like they’d just lost a battle?

Factor in mathematics, and the moment it occurs to you, you can’t help but be struck with astonishment at just how many “coincidences” turn up within it.

Sima Shang knew that once Jia Nanfeng had killed the Prince of Wei, she would certainly move to eliminate his family root and branch as well.

Hair like fine dark silk, robed in velvet-embroidered black, chain mail glinting cold beneath the night sky, wielding a bronze hammer with uncanny skill—much like the true Xuanwu of the north, roaming the rivers and lakes to subdue demons and exorcise evil, known throughout the world by the moniker Chaos-World Demon King.

After a moment of astonishment paired with a token show of respect, Li Shaojie’s attention quickly returned to the depths eight miles below.

Di Que had mastered the Dragon Claw Slender Finger technique—once perfected, it made the hands as sharp as dragon claws and as hard as iron and stone.

The vengeful ghost, apparently unused to sofas, curled up the moment she sat down, still saying nothing. Leaning against a throw pillow on the couch, she looked rather like some large breed of dog.

With the spy satellite no longer tracking him, Lang Zhan became like an unbridled wild horse, and the GRU insignia on the armored vehicle, ironically, became his protective talisman. He sped east and then south, successfully breaking through several self-defense force checkpoints, putting distance between himself and the battlefield at Xinfei Loubor.