Chapter 58: That Is No Tender Heart, but a Heart of Stone
Her short hair was yanked, and beside her ear came Wen Yuxin’s cold, mocking laughter.
“You’d better not try anything foolish. I remember you still have a scar on your head, don’t you? How many stitches did you get? Ninety-nine? The doctor said you almost died, isn’t that right?”
The more he spoke, the harder Xu Yu trembled, unable to control herself. She stared blankly, her pupils unfocused.
Wen Yuxin’s grip tightened on her scalp…
Aware that someone was secretly watching, Blood Crow dared not linger any longer. He hurried toward the ancient altar of the Old Tree Tribe, simultaneously pulling the now-lifeless ancient vine from his body, and devouring large amounts of spiritual items to replenish his depleted true energy.
To him, this behavior was nothing short of foolish—like delivering himself into the tiger’s jaws. When the time came, those above would only need the flimsiest excuse to seize the beast spirit body from him.
“Reporting to the General! The southern city wall has been breached by the Cao army—a section has collapsed, and the enemy is pouring into the city!” A soldier, covered head to toe in blood, ran breathlessly to report to a general who was just as bloodstained and commanding at the front lines.
The other disciples, witnessing the scene, wore a variety of expressions. But one thing was certain: everyone believed Xiang Hao’s fate would be nothing short of tragic.
He did not touch the round stone, instead surveying Mount Wuling. The area where the white mist gathered was the node of the formation; he avoided the fog and climbed to the summit.
He was well-versed in the art of courting women: one must be patient, neither hasty nor passive, and certainly not overly eager. He didn’t even ask for her WeChat. Of course, even if he wanted to, it wouldn’t work—because the moment Bai Su learned to use WeChat, she set it to reject all friend requests; only she could add others.
After coming to the second floor, Xiang Hao sensed for a moment and immediately found He Ziling’s room. He walked straight to the door and knocked.
“This is the kitchen—all we’ve got are washbasins and vegetable tubs. Who comes here looking for a footbath?” the fat chef grumbled.
Tang Monk was only in his thirties or forties, while the White Rat Spirit had cultivated for centuries, yet she called him “big brother.” Was there anything more ridiculous?
Aside from the Merit Buddha, the other four members of the scripture-seeking party rarely attended the Grand Hall to hear the Buddha’s sermons. What did the Buddha want when he called them together?
Jiang Xia, of course, knew that water and fire were incompatible. In the face of fire, water was always dominant. Since this powerful hatchet man, Meng Ge, was also supposedly a hacker, Jiang Xia had no confidence at all in defeating him.
Yet another faction held the opposite view. They believed that even if the Council of Ten’s era was ending, as long as it existed, its authority needed to be upheld. Those restless forces needed to understand that a dying camel was still bigger than a horse. If they wanted to cause trouble, so be it—but they should be ready to be wiped out.
Zhang Yu looked utterly astonished as he glanced around at everyone present. With a face full of envy and jealousy, he quickly asked, clearly hoping to be that sharpshooter whose aim was unerring.
Killing two star-level inspectors from the Kunze Star Nation meant nothing to Ye Beichen; he felt no psychological burden whatsoever.
If Aisha hadn’t insisted that this was the organization’s headquarters, Liu Hao would have been certain he had come to the wrong place.
Madam Wan quietly pursed her lips and glanced at her sister-in-law, Madam Yang. Like herself, she found Madam Xu’s words off-putting.
At this moment, seeing Ye Beichen stop his assault, the disfigured, utterly miserable Matsushita let out a long sigh of relief.
He sheathed his sword and offered Ma Chao a deep, respectful bow before slowly descending from the stage. Born of noble lineage and proud by nature, he would never stoop to petty gains; even in defeat, he would lose with dignity.
Seated in the front passenger seat, Zhang Yu surveyed the scene outside, his head swaying from side to side. Perhaps because of the angle, he hadn’t noticed the Nationalist soldier who had just whistled.