Volume One, Chapter 48: Fondness for Shen Chaowu

Mansion No. 3. Zhou Jingdu rubbed his fingertips together, his phoenix eyes cast down in a fleeting glance.

Not far away, a vast patch of Morning Mist grass basked in the wind and sunlight amidst the flowerbeds. It was meticulously tended, planted there long ago.

At first, Zhou Jingdu found the grass ugly. Morning Mist grass never blooms; it remains awkward in form, rooted in the earth, ashen and stubborn to the point of being almost comical.

It couldn’t even please him.

But as time passed, Zhou Jingdu found its stubbornness endearing.

Much like Shen Chaowu.

Yet that woman was anything but drab.

She was adept at enticing men.

Does she have a fiancé? Zhou Jingdu wondered. That could be troublesome.

He didn’t care for reputation, but Shen Chaowu seemed the type who did.

…

Emilia, Ye Zhi, and Nian Han went their separate ways; Yu Xinyi stayed with her younger sister and Youli, while Liuli naturally grouped with Fujiko and Beifang. Fortunately, every year at Christmas, they all reunited for a performance, which counted as the annual gathering for Silver Bell Agency.

Listening to Professor Bu’s explanation, Lin Yi was alarmed. The old man was clearly sending him to his death—how could the meager strength of a Soul Controller face an ancient beast on par with a Soul Master? The thought made Lin Yi tremble.

The Yangbo family originally built their fortune on insurance and discounting. Insurance was self-explanatory, but what exactly was discounting? Outsiders like Lyudmila and Veronica couldn’t quite grasp it.

At the pre-final press conference, Pat Riley, David Fizdale, LeBron James, and Dwyane Wade all took part in answering the media’s questions.

After some thought, Fujiko decided to set aside matters concerning Beifang. After all, she wasn’t the type to charge headlong at problems without a second thought.

…

Faced with the scene, the two exchanged glances, both filled with shock. They had never before witnessed such earth-shaking tremors. While some supreme masters could cause such chaos in isolated locales, the current sight was such that not even the Soul-Devouring Ancient Emperor, at his peak, could have accomplished it.

The man in the black robe sneered, then suddenly flung off his cloak to reveal leather armor beneath. What shocked the onlookers even more was that the armor was tightly bound with strips of cotton cloth, saturated in lamp oil and exuding a pungent odor. Between the strips and the armor, glass bottles filled with viscous liquid were wedged.

Turning on the news, it seemed even Chifeng Films could no longer restrain the media’s enthusiasm—headlines like “Zhang Yang Surpasses Lin Suyuan to Win Seven Awards, Becomes the Biggest Winner at the Grand Gala” were now being published.

Despite many limitations, Roland couldn’t care less now. Brimming with excitement, he checked which abilities his hard-won advanced professions had bestowed, to judge whether the cost had been worth it.

The teacher’s figure disappeared beyond the door, and after a while, the tense atmosphere suddenly eased.

If he could truly become the heir to the Awakened Spirit Sect, with the old man who tended graves as his protector, was there anywhere in this vast world he could not go?

Gan Fangling stuck out her tongue. Lu Yincong sat at the bedside, using a towel to wipe the sweat from Huo Taifeng’s neck. Then he gently took out from Huo’s inner pocket the item tied with brown silk around his neck—a fragment of amber-colored jade.

Once the matter was settled, the daily production of pillow cores at Jin County’s eleven textile mills could easily reach a hundred thousand.

As for now, capturing Liu Biao—or at least clinging to the tail of his main force to sow chaos and strike fear into the hearts of Jingzhou’s military and civilians at the mere mention of Yan and Zhao—was Zhang He’s true aim.

Later, when Yama Ai unleashed her latent spiritual power to resurrect herself, destroying the entire village, Ye Xingchen saw no fault in her actions. Why should the villagers be allowed to persecute her while she was forbidden to take revenge?

But Su Ni… it was as if he blended into water and was plucked out directly, a marvel that defied understanding.

Li Mo was stunned, unprepared for such words. She knew he still brooded over the loss of his arm, but for the moment, she did not know how to comfort him.

If an idol ceases to be perfect, their image in the eyes of fans collapses, and so does their popularity.

Most people, when faced with despair, resign themselves to fate and wait for death. But if, in that moment, a glimmer of hope appears, most will waver—especially when the meaning of their life has not yet run its course.

Such suspicions naturally placed Dr. Sanya in a precarious position. Since she had always seemed so composed, the doubts had not yet reached a breaking point.

Yuan Zhenxia could only wave his hand; Lü Tesheng’s words were logical enough, but his logic was founded solely on assumptions.

“Yes.” Seeing the hope in Long Shaoyan’s eyes, Helan Yao felt a trace of reluctance to disappoint him, and responded perfunctorily.

The reason was simple: Mind Flayers wield the power of the mind. Any Mind Flayer of moderate strength could reshape a slave’s emotions, thoughts, feelings, and even memories at will.

…

She had always convinced herself to live bravely in this era; though she possessed nothing, she was still alive, and living was the most important thing, wasn’t it?

Mali’s goalkeeper, Tangana, made no move; he had no idea how the ball had gone in, only gazing blankly at Zhang Ling.

“Insolent!” The mistresses had just begun to rebuke when the fleeing soldiers swept them away. Even killing several slave-soldiers on the spot was futile.

Immediately after, seven or eight sword lights rose from behind in pursuit, but they lagged behind in speed.

“If Assistant Zhang is willing to come to me, it’s an honor. In the future, if you need anything—so long as it doesn’t violate my principles—no matter what it is, I’ll do it for you, even if it means walking through fire and water.” Chen Zhaojun assured with a hearty slap to his chest.

In a distant city, Xia Yi gazed at the twin moons in contemplation. Suddenly, sensing something, he turned toward the marquisate. A chill drifted through the air—the scent of the dead.

“Mixed meal,” also known as “chaotic soup rice,” was a dish where assorted vegetables and grains were cooked together in a broth—hearty, filling, and economical.

Yet Xia Tan’er insisted on separating out two extra portions, for reasons unknown, seemingly wasting a golden opportunity.

A standing stone shattered with a crack, shards flying, while a figure holding a staff faced the massive pillar of light as thick as a mountain, their voice rising in fury.

But, glancing at the wild fields, with weasels, foxes, and snakes darting about… ahem, perhaps it was best to send the person back.

Chen Yuan was utterly baffled—was this the result of years in the profession, a chronic suppression leading to occupational illness?

After waiting so long, Jiang Chunyu grew anxious. Was boiling medicine in the pharmacy really such a complex matter? In later times, it was utterly routine—did it warrant such lengthy deliberation?

On the island of the Three Immortals, Beichen, who had been meditating, slowly opened his eyes as if a thought had suddenly occurred to him.

It was indeed due to changing jobs, but she couldn’t say so. Openly switching professions was hardly something permissible.

In contrast, the Eastern Duke was still somewhat naïve. Surrounded by the Ancestral Shamans, he had come to treat them as family, laughing and joking, completely unaware that he had fallen into their schemes.

Though Lu Xinxian outwardly appeared to be at the Divine Ability stage, Shi Yi was certain she was anything but simple. One Long Sky Sword Sect could be dealt with in time, but more than that, it would be like being a rat crossing the street.