65. Dividing the Spoils of Victory

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The plaque at the Old Master's Temple had just been hung up when it was decided the name needed changing. From now on, there would be no temples, monasteries, or shrines—only halls, schools, and academies. It would be called the Bailudong Academy, Meilan County Branch.
This arrangement was negotiated by Yang Shen.
He was neither the most skilled nor the one with the highest cultivation among them, but his background was the most formidable.
Before sitting down to discuss, he was ready to throw punches; he was somewhat in the middle ground. Now, sitting down meant relying on one’s background and rhetoric, and in that regard, he stood out among the group.
Moreover, the Divine Martial Kingdom had many like Yun Liu—countless elite figures. Every city lord in the Divine Martial Kingdom had achieved such a level. It could be said that there were no fewer than a thousand such experts, and who knew how many more were hidden within the army.
Time seemed to pass unknowingly as Wu Zhen appeared to spin in place endlessly, his footprints marking the ground beneath him.
Su Yiwan's hand froze mid-air. Since Yan Lan Cang had not yet returned, she had not locked the door, and besides, the Yan family members never entered rooms casually—only, she had not expected Yan Feng to come.
Yet, no matter if prince or princess, could the item brought on their birth day compare? When the emperor personally placed it, it would surely be far finer than this piece.
After returning to her room and changing into her nightgown, Su Yiwan noticed a box on the table. She reached out and opened it, only to find the pills that Yan Feng had stealthily taken.

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Since this incident unfolded, he had grown indifferent to Wu Zhen and no longer wished to argue with him at length.
When he saw Shen Yunche, it was as if his soul had been lost. He stood motionless wherever he was, grief and pain etched deeply on his face, utterly bereft of will to live.
Similarly, this was why Molin felt the reputation of the Martial Soul Hall might be difficult to restore.
The pungent incense was still unbearable to Yang Xu’s nose. Smiling as he declined, he said, “Miss He Mei will do.” She was the same girl who had been summoned three or four months ago when Yang Xu last came.
To be cautious, Xiao Jian quietly approached under the corridor, concealing himself behind a pillar to eavesdrop on the conversation within.
Wang Zhenren waved his hand, and a long scroll instantly appeared on the table, depicting the layout of the “Nether Fire Separation Array.”
“Did I send you a text?” Su Jingyao’s head ached; she could not recall what had happened before she lost consciousness.
“You invited your Aunt Li Xin; does that mean you don’t want to invite me, your Uncle?” Fang Rong had already overheard some of the conversation at the door. He was thinking that if Shopkeeper Zhu did not support Li Xin, he would come in, take her, and return to Fang Family Village.
Liu Lao San regained his senses, recalled Fang Xuan’s warning, clenched his teeth, hastily took out a talisman, shouted loudly, and charged at the old man.
“Xuanyuan Po, it’s raining—” Liu Yi shouted again. He didn’t know what was wrong with Xuanyuan Po, who stood there dazed, staring at the arrow in his hand for a very long time.

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Chang’e pulled Xuanyuan over to a table, took out an exquisitely crafted treasure box, and from it, produced a single pill.
“I…” Even though Wang Zhenren maintained composure before everyone, his face flushed instantly, as if overcome with emotion.
After all, Mojiu was the daughter of the Mo family; naturally, she was closer to Shi Yier. If they were not genuinely close, they would not have been able to connect so seamlessly, nor would they casually inquire about Shi Zhisheng.
Wang Qingfu was a clever man. Though he had never experienced such matters before, his decisiveness was extraordinary.
In such a romantic and tender moment, there should have been embraces and kisses, yet Bai Luoxi’s stomach betrayed her with a loud growl.
Mysterious specks of light emerged on the ground like fireflies, as if rising from medicinal herbs or sprouting from fragrant soil. Witnessing such a beautiful sight, everyone felt an inexplicable surge of emotion, a sudden urge to weep.
Lin Hanxi watched helplessly as Mo Hun approached Fang Ling’er. His narrow eyes fixed deeply on her before he suddenly bent down and lifted her into his arms.
Though it was only an act, Ping Erzhi still felt deeply uncomfortable upon hearing those words, glaring fiercely at the man in black and cursing him as less than a beast.