Jiang Family, Chapter 72

“Is this what I’d call fate?” Bai Zongnan mused to himself as he gazed at the blade of grass beneath his feet. Although there was only a sliver of spiritual energy left within him, he slowly edged closer to the grass at his feet.

“Brother Bai Zongnan, what are you doing?”

Seeing this, Jiang Yayun hurried over to stop Bai Zongnan from proceeding.

Bai Zongran didn’t know what it all meant, but the fact that Jiang Yayun had appeared at his side suggested it was anything but ordinary, so Bai Zongnan decided to try—

But who could have imagined that such a long-standing affair, unresolved for over sixty years, would finally be accomplished by a young man?

Even if Su Huai was a prodigy, it was hard to believe he could be this arrogant; at this moment, he had not yet surpassed Dongshan Ji’s achievements. Besides, he was still feverish—one day, he might become the greatest of all, but not now.

Had one not experienced such things firsthand, anyone would have thought it the fabricated tale of some third-rate storyteller.

Everyone exclaimed in shock; after so many days in the Lord God's space, none were ignorant novices—there were some things they understood.

These were unlike the sky lanterns they usually saw. Tonight, countless lanterns rose into the night sky, faintly forming a giant character—“Kang”—drifting on the wind toward the bright moon.

Hauling more than a dozen treasure chests into the clearing, Ivo pried them open with his knife, revealing gold and jewels glittering inside. It took quite a while to tally them up, but the total value exceeded twenty million Benas.

For a moment, such a flower bloomed atop that place. If he saw through it himself, what would come next?

She had already said she did not wish to split from the family, but he persisted, even demanding she move along with the third and fourth branches out of the prince’s residence. Was it truly his wish to divide the family, or the prince’s?

Outside the courtyard, He Zhou stood at a distance, observing the maid leaving the yard, analyzing her footsteps—there was not the slightest trace of panic. To her, Wu You posed no real threat; compared to the princess’s power, she was insignificant.

Since his return to the Xia Kingdom half a year ago, he had traversed the eastern lands, relentlessly hunting and devouring the lingering souls of immortals and gods.

“I only need to know one thing: your martial arts are inferior to mine.” Yan She suddenly lifted his palm and gently pressed down. An invisible force rippled out for hundreds of feet, enveloping Li Siyuan.

“Aunt Tian, Aunt Wang, let us escort you over,” Shao Yuting said with a smile, leading the way himself.

Snow began to drift down from the sky. Hu Youde carried Lei Shaoxuan on his back, vanishing with the others into the swirling, indistinct snowstorm.

Within Chen Feng’s body, there were even thunderous, heavy crashes—the sound of magical power surging through his meridians and bones.

The registration office was some distance from the cafeteria; Qin Gao led Ye Yimo across most of the base before they finally arrived.

Royal affairs were originally overseen by Qin Taili, the Minister of Rites, Qin Taishan, and others. Although Qin Xiao had personally ruled for five years, there were still some people and matters within the royal clan he did not fully grasp.

He had already asked Su Mu about the hospital room, so he carried the fruit straight up to the intensive care ward.

But if, one day, the demon clan were truly destroyed because of Zhao Shanhe, who would then be able to satisfy Zhao Shanhe’s thirst for battle?

No one knew Chen Lingling’s real age—some said she was twenty-six, others thirty-one. Some claimed she was married, some said divorced, some even said she had a five-year-old child.

In the palace’s elegant, map-lined corridor, two giants, each nearly three meters tall, were engaged in a massacre.

Yet when it came to the Chang’an Marquis’s household, their carelessness was shocking—they paid not the slightest attention to the children’s plight.

Zhao Ding instantly understood the schemes of Li Xiao and Weiming Gaoye; Li Jing had known everything all along but had temporarily held back, waiting for the right moment. Now, at last, the opportunity had come.

Li Jing’s eyes were bloodshot, his heart bleeding. Those men were carefully chosen by himself—men who had survived the battlefield, only to fall now in Song Jiang’s ambush. If not for his own carelessness, how could things have come to this?