Volume One, Chapter 42: The Elixir of the Yellow Court...

Ji Die pretended not to notice her sarcasm, already accustomed to her unpredictable comings and goings.

“It’s been a while, Senior Sister Jiang,” Ji Die said, turning around and bowing respectfully with clasped fists.

With his spiritual sense, he had felt her presence the moment she entered.

But the only response he received was a ‘cold’ fire serpent. The temperature radiating from that serpent seemed capable of melting anything, its speed so swift that he couldn’t hope to dodge—it felt as if the very next instant, he would be gravely wounded.

Ji Die’s pupils contracted slightly; he could clearly sense Jiang Moli’s murderous intent.

He had assumed that, after breaking through to the sixth level of Qi Refinement, even if he couldn’t defeat Jiang Moli, he would at least not fall too far behind. But now, with this single attack, he realized how terribly wrong he’d been...

As they looked over the corpses, Li Weidong’s brows furrowed, especially at Batong’s body. He examined it several times before confirming that all these people had been victims of a voodoo spell.

No wonder Grandpa Lanhua lamented the decline of Shushan, saying the younger generation was getting worse and worse.

"First, I was only suspicious at the time, so I had Zhang Chun investigate you and your sister. Second, because we are classmates and you are still young, I wanted to give you a chance to turn over a new leaf," I said calmly.

One of them belonged to the Guizhong tribe; his body carried the aura of the old chieftain, likely because the chieftain’s spirit had seized his body.

The chubby student, Xu Lei, was trembling all over, the fat on his white face quivering as if an oily layer might slide right off.

Now, his only chance of victory was to surpass Ye Lingfeng in both speed and strength.

That man had all but trampled the Nine Nether Academy underfoot—Ran Mo’s persistence was, in its way, a defense of the academy’s dignity.

At that moment, Li Qingfeng, sitting on the grass, recalled what had happened before he fainted yesterday. Yet no matter how he racked his brain, he couldn’t fathom how he had ended up in this unfamiliar place overnight. Confusion overwhelmed him, his chest heavy with frustration.

“Who are you? What’s your name? Why are you bothering my classmate Zhang Jing?” By now, I had lost all courtesy—for the more polite you are to a ghost, the less they appreciate it.

Just take this instance for example: after Han Jinyong landed, he really was uninjured. Han Jinyong’s time to shine was still ahead; otherwise, how could the story go on?

Cold sweat streamed down the Golden Armored Emperor’s forehead. He had never imagined that this newcomer boy would be granted by Lolita the authority to come and go freely in the Dream Prison.

“You may go now. I need a moment alone,” Gu Lingge said, not wanting to jump to conclusions or even certain of her own desires. She sent the girl away so she could gather her thoughts.

At this time, the Japanese puppet troops were dividing into three columns, steadily advancing on the Ludong base from three directions. In terms of both manpower and firepower, they held an overwhelming advantage. For the troops holding the inner lines, it was a fight to the death—a chance for survival only in desperate straits.

“Thank you, Grandma!” Liu Yunqing said, then took Hua Qingyi and Ai Xianger from the Frozen Palace.

Impatience flickered across Li Tianyou’s face; he had no desire to deal with Xi Hongyan at all. If not for the intelligence he sought, he’d have gladly slain Xi Hongyan on the spot.

Sword light pierced through Zhaerxi’s chest, and almost simultaneously, the rest of the Seven Freaks of Tianyi arrived at his side.

Lin Meimian was silent. Turning to Suzi, she said, “What is he, that he dares shout in front of me? Yi Hanxuan, I don’t care what your status is—if you anger the revered master, I won’t let you off.” As she spoke, her eyes flashed red, stabbing into Yi Hanxuan’s dark gaze.

She had followed her grandfather for over ten years, never separated. Now, with this sudden parting, she was loath to let go.

The days that followed were calm yet exciting. In the blink of an eye, half a month passed, and at last, the fifteenth of August arrived.

His voice, bolstered by inner force, rolled like thunder, echoing endlessly. At once, everyone present fell silent. Among the tens of thousands gathered, even a pin drop would be heard.

Behind the cloth curtain, silence fell once more. On the bed lay Shen Chunguang, barely breathing, his face as pale as paper, though sweat beaded his neck and brow.

Madam Lu was at a loss for how to thank Master Tianji. Fortunately, he was no ordinary man, unbound by empty formalities.

Su Jue always addressed Su Hongzhi as “father,” but even in moments of necessity, those two words were spoken with a marked formality and distance.

“Bah, they’re all a bunch of frauds! Don’t bother with them!” The gatekeeper didn’t bother to lower his voice, shouting brazenly for all to hear.

The other six transmigrators did likewise. With the agreements signed, Zhang Long and the others began discussing with Tian Qiqi their move-in dates.

The road was rough, but Chu Liancheng’s mind was far from dull—he still recognized the way.

Yu Chi’s gaze fell on the scar on the back of his right hand. Though long healed and not deep, a faint mark remained—the scar he’d earned ten years ago, when he’d brushed past death.

Chu Zhiyuan hesitated, but still called out to Chu Liancheng. Even knowing all that had happened, she couldn’t help but follow after Chu Zhiyuan, suspicion gnawing at her heart.

Huang San had been slapped until he was barely recognizable, yet she stood calmly to the side, showing no sign of stopping it.

After all, those sects had each sent personal invitations for Luo He to join them—only to be refused.

Just the day before yesterday, he’d been an ordinary student in class. In the span of a single day, the world had changed, and so had he.

He had seen so much—now, Bai Fei was no more than a money pouch in his eyes.

Li Meng, wary, pulled gloves from his pocket and put them on his right hand, channeling spiritual energy into his index finger. The Dream Thief’s power activated, and instantly, the slip of paper vanished from the table, appearing between his right index and middle fingers.

In truth, the reason he’d gathered the four of them for a meal was for Xu Qing. The man was quiet, rarely speaking, but possessed remarkable ability.

At the same time, Ye Xingchen’s mind was suddenly flooded with countless images, and a message appeared vividly in his consciousness.

“Don’t make a move later. Just stay hidden here—your own safety comes first,” Su Chen instructed.

Yet in this moment, the passion and joy from overcoming hardship together swiftly faded from their hearts.

No one knew how much time had passed before his own reflection appeared in his mind, like hearing his own singing through an earpiece.

But upon hearing that the Sect Leader, Situ, said there was actually a Nascent Soul cultivator among them, it was truly disheartening news.

Lying in bed, Yan Ze tossed and turned, unable to make sense of it all. Giving up, he sat cross-legged and focused on sensing the so-called energy of heaven and earth.

Wang Daxi had already learned from Master Qingxu that Chen Jian’an would not live much longer. He’d made up his mind—if the emperor died, once he’d fulfilled his final duties, he would follow his sovereign to the grave, to serve him in the afterlife.

At the start of the year, with a major victory in the Three Feudatories campaign, the emperor was in high spirits and turned his favor to the harem. Noble Lady Nara gave birth to the seventh prince, Yindan, in February and had just finished her confinement when Consort Yi announced her own happy news. Consort Yi had entered the palace early, and after many years, finally conceived—her joy was boundless, and her gratitude toward Shi Hui all the greater.

The first sect leader of the Ask Heaven Sect was none other than Lord Ghost, for in strength and influence, he was second to none.