Volume One, Chapter 110: Reporting to Peking University

Seeing the situation, Pei's father felt his vision darken and nearly lost his sanity from anger. Despite so many guards stationed outside last night, and even Lin Ranan kept at home to monitor things, how had the house still been completely emptied? This matter was utterly baffling.

Zhao Sen collected his thoughts and recalled that Lord Ci was a friend from high school named Xu Jiaci. He came from a prominent family with parents who were leaders in the securities industry. Xu Jiaci was a hopelessly kindhearted man, but precisely because of his naivety, he had unwittingly fallen in with a disreputable crowd.

Luo Lianyi immediately understood his meaning. Tong Fuan was terrified that upon arriving at the Qinglian Sect, she would expose his weaknesses, ensuring his inevitable defeat.

“Who is Bai Jing? I don’t understand a word of what you’re saying. What exactly do you want me to say? Why don’t you just tell me!” Feihu snapped in frustration.

Volga was indeed excellent. It was a pity that Bing Jing hadn’t brought along two bottles when they left. In the snow, just a sip or two could stave off the cold.

As the two whispered quietly, footsteps sounded outside the door. When it opened, Xuan entered, accompanied by the Sixth Prince, Li Jingxuan.

There stood a coffin as white as jade, just over a foot high and more than eight feet long. The lid was adorned with gold, jade, pearls, and dragon motifs.

Feihu had paid three hundred yuan and felt deeply grateful to the plump woman who waived his utility bills this month. Though only a little over ten yuan, for someone who lived on instant noodles daily, it was a considerable relief.

“Mother! Mother!” The crown prince approached the bedside, calling loudly, but his mother showed no response.

“It’s merely point-to-point teleportation. Wherever I have been, I can open a portal. Step through, and you will instantly return to the mansion!” Yuan Ji’s patience seemed to have worn thin; his voice was chillingly cold, devoid of any human warmth.

“Su Mu is your father. He’s only about thirty this year. How old are you?” Yin Le asked with some surprise.

Yet, seeing the fruit basket carefully prepared in his hands, my heart felt lighter. Turning a corner, I arrived at Zhang Youze’s hospital room and gently knocked, hearing an invitation to enter.

Past midnight, as the courtyard gates opened, two young men emerged, wandering about before leaning against the wall to smoke.

However, the First Swordmaster was still the First Swordmaster. Upon sensing that his opponent’s strength had abruptly surpassed his own, posing a threat to the Emperor, the middle-aged man’s face briefly revealed an unmasked resolve.

Zhusha was no stranger to this elder of the Divine Blood Palace; in fact, he despised him deeply. This was the very man who had bravely attempted to intercept him at the Wanren Cliff, inflicting two fatal wounds upon his body.

Zhusha recalled encountering a tadpole from another realm during exile, who had also mentioned the “Spirit Domain” and the concept of becoming a god—indeed not mere fantasy.

Wu Song observed the oddly shaped stone split in two, rectangular and sharply protruding, resembling a human right foot. The stone weighed around three to four hundred pounds, one end embedded in the ground. Its internal structure was unknown, but it was so tough it could shatter mountain stones without damage to itself.

Almost simultaneously with the plump man sharing the news, the Qin army officers escorting the carriage received reports from scouts below.

All eyes were fixed on the two smoking men, oblivious to Wang Sanqiang and Hu Wanjun, who seized the opportunity to slip out unnoticed by scaling the back wall.