Chapter 47: Seeking Peace
(I haven’t returned home yet!! The manuscript is still on the computer; I arrived a moment ago to make the replacement! Thank you all!)
Leaning against the moonlit railing, shadows flickered through the window cracks.
In the damp earth by the roadside, crimson autumn leaves were stirred by a pair of embroidered shoes, lifted and twirled by the autumn breeze.
The palace maid wearing the embroidered shoes hurried along, carrying a palace lantern, and entered the Jade Maid Palace.
“Your Highness, it’s two quarters past the hour of the Dog,” she announced.
“Mm,” a delicate voice responded from within the hall, asking, “Are preparations complete?”
After all, in ancient times, cultivators filled the skies, and didn’t their methods all stem from their own painstaking discoveries?
Yet, under the shared life bond, Mei Yi’s absorption of Su Yang’s magical power, though now stabilizing, still proceeded at a rate of one percent per second.
As his cultivation advanced, his eyes grew ever more discerning, and ordinary spiritual herbs no longer caught his attention.
He shifted as far as possible from Wei Xue, who was covered in snow; Jing Yan was almost sitting outside the carriage now, curling inward against the cold wind that occasionally swept in.
Judging by the average age of horses, the prince was still a child in heart and mind. He trotted over to Ye Mu, snorting repeatedly as if questioning why Ye Mu hadn’t come to visit, then lowered his head and rubbed his long horse face vigorously against Ye Mu’s embrace.
Yet, gathering such spiritual fruit was no easy feat, for these places were invariably home to numerous snakes. To obtain the fruit, one must first evade or eliminate the snakes inhabiting the creeping snakeberry plants. Thus, while not exceedingly rare, the fruit was extremely difficult to harvest.
The group ascended to the third floor, where Su Yang realized the VIP lounge truly differed from the floor below. Here, there were no enclosed counters but instead individual display platforms.
Honestly, the owner’s magical soul beasts were nothing but ants in her eyes. After hearing Hutu’s confusing words, she merely cast a cold glance at him, saying nothing.
As soon as the cooldown for “Summon Goblin” ended, Wang Yuan immediately summoned another goblin. However, the cunning Fitzjell had also set his sights on the goblin, his tongue darting through the air like a blade.
After seeing off their guests, Ye Mu and Zhao Jiyang continued clearing a patch of land in the greenhouse, sowing seeds… Busy until past ten in the evening, Su Yang then reopened the Flower Creek Merchant icon, revealing a third shop: Ron’s General Store.
If the dean of Lingzhen Academy, Chen Buran, was untarnished by worldly dust and untouched by emotion, then perhaps Qing Banxian was “half immersed in mortal world, half ascended to immortality.”
Behind them, a terrifying aura radiated from a powerful demon clan warrior. It was a robust wild wolf, much like the fierce tiger ahead, possessing a human face and speaking human words.
It didn’t seem like much at first, but one must understand that the vitality of a fourth-rank cultivator differed significantly from that of second or third rank. As one’s level rose, each increment of vitality gained greater potency. This 20% increase was enough to make him unbeatable in bursts of combat at the same level.
A cool breeze swept through the forest, pressing against the fire. The flames flickered, dimming the light and stretching his spear-wielding silhouette long and slender, like a dragon-slaying warrior from myth.
He wondered which manufacturer had produced this silicone—it was as delicate as real human skin, completely unlike the roughness he had imagined.
Tall, handsome, seemingly wealthy, excelling academically, perhaps modest in character, yet unreserved when facing admirers.
After saying this, Mo Yang sat quietly upon the Xuanding Crystal Stone, closing his eyes to begin contemplating the path of the Heart Sutra.
Every punch from the raging lion seemed to cause no pain to Morin, nor did it affect him despite the ferocity of the attacks.
Upon hearing this, Mo Yang seemed deflated. He collapsed back onto the bed, helplessly gazing at the aged figure before him.
The word “secret admiration” always carried a hint of sorrow. For certain reasons, it prevented one from confessing freely or entering into love, thus it remained forever a secret yearning.