Volume One, Chapter 84: None But Shen Chaowu

It would be a miracle if Shen Yanzhou could get a good night’s sleep. In his previous life, his insomnia had already reached a severe level. He couldn't fall asleep and could only wait until his tense body was utterly exhausted, finally collapsing into unconsciousness for a brief respite. Over time, it was inevitable that such a condition would take a toll on his health.

Rouran, a tribe of the northern lands, held sway across the deserts, stretching north to the shores of Lake Baikal and south to the foothills of the Yin Mountains. Also known as the Northern Di or the Ghost Clan, the name Rouran in Chinese signified wisdom and sagacity. Yet, due to one unwise decision by a tribal chief, they once faced the brink of annihilation.

After Yang Guang ascended the throne, he chose a new site for the capital in Luoyang, establishing a new city that made Luoyang even more prosperous and splendid. Chen Lin had also reported to the authorities, but those troublemakers were habitual brawlers; even if they were detained, they would be released in a few days and continue to stir up trouble. Tan Minkun would come by to negotiate whenever he had nothing better to do, and even if Chen Lin tried to avoid him, he could not escape, leaving him utterly vexed.

The white fox fur coat, valued at a king’s ransom and the only one of its kind in the world, had long since been gifted by Lord Mengchang to King Zhaoxiang of Qin and was now stored within the Qin palace.

“Master?” Wenerte’s heart skipped a beat. Since when did Jian Yang have a master? Who could his master be?

Her master, Abbess Jingyi, had been dismembered, and the other attendants were all flayed and hanged from the stairwell on the second floor. The long line of flayed, bloody corpses swayed in the wind like ghastly wind chimes—an unspeakable horror.

The maids who had attended Aunt Tang had all been moved out, as per the old madam’s instructions, leaving only a half-deaf, stammering old nurse.

After Zhou Fashang led his troops into the city, he first made contact with Li Yin, and under Li’s guidance, went searching for Lai Hu’er. However, he was still a step too late—Lai Hu’er was ambushed by Gao Jianwu and suffered a crushing defeat before being expelled from the city.

The United States, disregarding the risk of a major diplomatic crisis, dispatched F-22 fighter jets on Wen Ming’s behalf, while Mexico could only watch as other nations made moves in its own territorial waters, yet remained silent.

After tending to Jian Yang—helping him dress and groom—the female servant left. Jian Yang leaned against the headboard, just about to catch his breath and rest, when the door was opened once more.

“A spell?” Mo Feng was startled, glancing at Angel with a newfound, playful curiosity.

Passing through wild grass and tangled trees, the Demon Mother and her retinue traversed the mountain’s waist, where they saw a stone stele inscribed with three ancient characters: Demon-Sealing Mountain. The calligraphy was bold and archaic, exuding an air of desolate nostalgia.

Song Zhixing watched Tang Yu rolling up his shirt sleeves, cooking in the kitchen, and felt her heart flutter. If only the world were free from other people’s meddling—if it were just the two of them, how wonderful that would be.

Li Zun shrugged; that trifling amount of money was less than one ten-thousandth of his shares.

A ten percent gain meant nothing to Jiang Chen, but for these people, it would take half a year of arduous cultivation to accumulate such strength.

In terms of overall combat strength, Qingzhou clearly could not match the Imperial Guard Corps—after all, that unit was composed entirely of elite warriors.

Not to mention she couldn’t recognize a single word written on these medicines. Even if she could accurately pick out the cold medicine, every single one had already expired.

“Who are you? Who told you to call him ‘Brother Jun’?” Tang Xia’er’s authority was challenged; hands on her hips, she glared fiercely at Ya Shui Xingxing like a furious demon.

At this moment, Mo Yufei had already entered the stage of transforming his martial energy into Prajna power and could not afford any distractions. So absorbed was he that he remained oblivious to the anguished cries of the soul seeking inheritance.

Sima Youyue followed the instructions. She still could not examine her internal state, but she could sense that her lower abdomen was no longer just a ball of crimson spiritual energy—it now contained something resembling a pool of water.