Thirty-eight, thirty-eight.

Unbeknownst to Li Shenglong and Luo Hao, the Jing Tian Building was a trap meticulously set by Chen Liang, a scheme that had been in motion for over a year. What Chen Liang had not anticipated was that Li Shenglong would enlist the aid of his junior disciple, Xiangjiang Caiye, to assist with feng shui consultations.

Ye Wudao’s entrance was possible because Song Tianqi had previously given him a special card, assuring him that with this card, he could enter the premises at any time without any payment.

The group walked forward tensely, yet Bayar, leading the way, showed no sign of nervousness. With a cigarette tucked at an angle between his lips, he whistled a carefree tune, embodying the very essence of a rogue with each step.

Before the Fiery Heaven Ancestor could reach the Fierce Hall Master, the latter extended his hand and, with a flicker of light from a finger ring, produced a blood-red jade slip. Just as the Fiery Heaven Ancestor prepared to charge with full force, the Fierce Hall Master crushed the jade slip with all his might.

Before the spreading bloodstains, a once lively man now lay convulsing in death. With a swing of the blood-stained greatsword, the sharp blade of the mountain-cleaving knife slid into another’s body.

Both men lavished boundless praise on Situ Yu, whose expression softened considerably at that moment.

At this juncture, Jiang Jingtian had no mind to deal with Jiang Li and Chen Hao’s affairs; time simply did not permit it.

At that moment, Zhong Feihu’s eyes rolled back, his body still convulsing, white foam spilling from his mouth. Yet Chen Hao had already used soul-searching techniques to probe his mind. Though the whereabouts of his parents remained elusive, he unexpectedly uncovered four words: “Sacred Dragon Project.”

To divert Hong Ziyao’s probing into his powers, Jiang Kairan dodged and weaved, steering the conversation toward more tedious and trivial matters, gradually quelling her curiosity.

At such words from Xi Fu, Luo Fei sneered. If the Third Prince were so easily appeased, he would not have lingered in the capital for so many years, coveting the imperial palace with such intensity.

Once they had walked far enough, three figures emerged from behind a rose bush at a corner—none other than Luo Fei, Xi Fu, and Bing Feng Jinxiu.

Her eyes flickered subtly as she spoke, a smile gracing her face, yet a clear appraisal gleamed unmistakably within her gaze.

---

Luo’er appeared quite pleased, for she knew her mother was a remarkable woman.

Thus, the initial meeting between the princess and her consort, though seemingly straightforward, was clearly more complex to any discerning observer. Still, the princess plunged headlong into it.

He Mo waited a moment; when no further instructions came from He Zhizhou, curiosity got the better of him. Looking up, he saw his lord’s gentle, spring-like smile and gaze.

The emperor, Xi Chaoshen, made a grand display, almost wishing the entire Dayin Kingdom to know of Luo Fei’s contributions.

Ren Shi took the documents, glanced through them, and similarly shook his head; these two had not been invited at all.

“Passing through a town, we’ll rest briefly; it’s rather hot today. Continuing to travel risks heatstroke,” Xia Qingshao nodded. The weather had turned strangely hot these days, stifling and oppressive. Thankfully, the carriage’s motion brought some breeze; otherwise, they might have perished from the heat.

Ling Xiquan pondered, just about to speak when the vibration in her hand prompted a discreet glance.

Because she and Bao Yifan kept their promises, yet Bao Tai could easily overturn the rules with reckless abandon, even breaking them outright. Being with Bao Yifan meant confronting Bao Tai’s innumerable unfathomable schemes.

Wang Xuanyi watched the two walk shoulder to shoulder toward the backyard, suppressing her curiosity and daring not to follow.

Fan Shengmei was torn between laughter and tears; just then, the elevator arrived, and she hurried inside. Yet Qu Xiaoxiao moved much more slowly today.

Hearing this, Shen Ningzhu and Tian Jiaojiao felt an unusual sensation stirring within, yet they did not object.

Several robbers behind him initially intended to bind Xia Weixing and the others, but before they could reach them, a sharp shout from Lady Zhao caught their attention. Suddenly, Luo Shihan appeared swiftly before the robbers, kicking each one away with a single foot.

---

Lin Rongshen returned to the hospital at nine in the evening. Upon entering, he lay on the sofa, hardly moving, exhaustion etched deeply across his brow. Estimating his schedule silently, it was clear he had barely rested. She went to the kitchen and poured him a cup of warm water.

The other four young men were visibly shocked. Just as they prepared to act, Lin Yu’s cold gaze fixed on them, halting their steps.

Qin Zhiheng had vanished from Hangzhou City for three full days. Although Ning Lu was lost again, the Third Elder and his group seemed largely indifferent.

“Are you from the Papal State?” a young man dressed as a servant, arms crossed over his chest, sat by a pool without a single guard nearby.

After the two clinked their cups, before Han Lu could drink, Xuanyuan Tiezhu gulped down the wine in one go, the cup empty.

Just as Jingmen Lian let out a slow breath of relief, fully at ease, a disciple guarding the main peak’s entrance came running in, panic evident on his face.

Fede noticed the subtle change in Vittorio’s expression; the other was clearly not merely worried about the Potato Mercenary Group’s safety but had other concerns.

I rushed behind the bloodied corpse without hesitation, mustering all my strength to wield the greatsword in a “Sweep Through the Army” strike, the blade slicing horizontally across the corpse’s waist.

Jiang Zicheng paid no attention to him. As the silver sword struck harder against the Ghost King’s arm, the green threads entwining the Ghost King’s body began to contract fiercely, carving terrifying wounds. Perhaps with more force, the Ghost King would be shredded to pieces and explode.