Chapter 21: Lurking Murderous Intent

“But no matter how poor Liu Fa’s family is, stealing someone else's fish fry is wrong. I kicked him twice just now, as punishment. Liu Fa, do you accept it?” Liu Fa nodded in shame.

At noon, they paused for a meal. Though they no longer hung cloth curtains to announce their rest, they still chose a spot surrounded on three sides by slopes—a kettle-bottomed terrain—to set up camp and cook.

If they were to duel this beast alone, they were confident enough that, relying on their sword techniques, mental disciplines, and magical treasures, they could defeat it.

The speech in the temple was interrupted by a Red Army officer seated by the wall. Everyone turned to the voice, realizing it was Ishihara Kanji, the head of the Mobilization Section of the Military Affairs Bureau of the Japanese Ministry of Labor and National Defense.

Looking at those terrifying wounds, Xiao Wen couldn't help but ponder: his pain tolerance had become far greater than before.

For Hu Tiansi and the others, these tasks seemed familiar; in no time, they had completed the inspection.

Simply observing from his current vantage point was no longer enough. Xiao Wen opened his eyes, preparing to cast a spell and travel directly to that world himself.

With a crisp “snap,” a black stone landed on the board at three-six, attempting to live by forming two eyes on the edge. The player looked left and right, pleased with his move, believing it ingenious, and couldn't help stroking his beard with a smile.

“Boss!” Wu Tianguo respectfully approached Lin Tiansheng. “The men are ready! We can move at any time!” As he spoke, he glanced at Zheng Tianbao’s neck.

“Shut up.” Yan Xiangnuan had no desire to hear Yan Zhefeng speak any further—hadn’t he noticed Jing Xia’s hopeless expression of sorrow?

Ignoring their master’s idle chatter, apart from Lin Tianxu of the Law Hall being surrounded by familiar disciples, Yu Jinghai, the eldest, was the first to speak.

Even among the reserved ones, all knew that the current glory of the Quan family rested solely on Quan Moxian. His preferences were the preferences of the entire household.

This trust, this generosity, this thoughtful consideration—Yu Qiuping felt for the first time from Oda Nobunaga the same kindness he once received from Imagawa Yoshimoto. And from deep within, he felt a loyalty equal to what he had shown the Imagawa clan years ago.

At that moment, Mu was watching a film in the cinema when suddenly her phone rang. Everyone in the theater turned to look at Mu and her companions.

“Let’s go home. Tomorrow is your eighteenth birthday—whether you live or die, it all depends on tomorrow.” Dean Zhou said to Zhou Qingqing, and the two slowly walked back to the orphanage.

After resting for more than ten minutes, Mu opened her eyes, half her strength restored. She stood up and removed the silver needles from Yin Lan.

As night fell, Fang Shuyu was on duty before the emperor. He sent a message back to his residence, telling Si Lansheng not to wait for him. Lately, court affairs had been many, and whenever he was on duty, he could never return home on time.

This was the power of Uesugi Kenshin—the force that drove Takeda Shingen into retreat, the Echigo army that battered the Takeda forces at Kawanakajima, leaving them unable to regroup. Such might was truly terrifying.

In Luoyang City, busybodies composed a humorous poem about these unmarried young ladies and even ranked them. Among the verses were truths and fabrications; most likely, those who ordered the rankings had never seen these secluded girls, only heard their names.

“Who says it’s impossible!” The Nine-Lives Skeleton withdrew his gaze and looked at Chen Cao. Mentioning his ideals, his eyes regained their former brilliance, though it quickly faded again.

It was already deep winter. The ground was cold; after lying there for just a moment, it felt as if submerged in icy water, cold to the bone. Xiao Yingdi curled up instinctively, yet the cold did not abate.

A giant LED screen, several dozen square meters in size, slowly lit up in the center of Beining City’s main square. The stage below hesitated, the spotlights casting uncertain shadows.

Xiao Teng leisurely took photos with his phone, observing the beauty from various sides and angles.

Waking with a splitting headache, opening her eyes, she stared at the curtains above—the sense of unfamiliarity washing over her. Xiao Yingdi blinked several times, still unable to recall where she was.

Thinking thus, her expression worsened, her aura imposing, further pressuring Li Yue below. Her face grew colder, even ruthless.

If one traced the threads carefully, it was clear that almost every conflict among the palace’s upper ranks had traces of the Snow Concubine’s involvement, though always in the background.

“What are you doing here?” Suddenly seeing Mu Rongxiao, Tang You’er could not tell if she was more surprised or delighted. Yet she was certain—on a night as stormy as this, Mu Rongxiao had no reason to appear.

Through the long night, at some point, Song Wan fell asleep sobbing in her room. At some point, the door gently opened; a shadow drifted to her bedside, wiped away her tears, and extinguished the restless candle.

Uki looked at the white-bearded captain in confusion, still unsettled by how the captain had just drugged him. But he dared not defy the captain, obediently holding Mr. Upton’s hand as he left.

Watching several monsters slip from the cave, trying to escape, prepared to fight to the death or take Monk Tang hostage.

Feng Lin slapped his forehead—he had been careless. With so many people around, giving her too much money would only plunge her into danger again.

Zhu Hongxu scoffed inwardly at the others’ suspicions. But for the elixir, all was worth it.

The sounds of sucking blood, bones breaking, and flesh tearing filled the air, making the scene chilling to behold.

Medical staff were astonished at the patient’s tenacity. No one understood why Stauffenberg, who would never be sent to the battlefield, still fought so desperately.

Of the three options, now that the first was no longer viable for the Swordman, and the third was rather uncertain—after all, he had no idea of the masked men’s strength and couldn’t afford to fight them head-on.

After dinner, returning indoors, Chen Chuman sat cross-legged on her bed, attempting once again to channel qi into her body based on what she had learned in class today.