Chapter 80: The Rendezvous

These past few days, Ma Wu had been dragged to the casino by Wu Rui, and unexpectedly ran into Lin Li. Wanting to establish an image of a strong and decisive father in Lin Li’s mind, he had set the matter aside. Now, it was time to communicate with the people left behind by the Right Commandant.

The Back Courtyard Alley was narrow—Ma Wu’s car couldn’t fit at all. He parked outside and walked in on foot. The alley resembled an urban village, with some dilapidated...

Ji Changfeng had cultivated for nearly three hundred years—three times the lifespan of an ordinary person—yet most of that time had been spent in military service. His contributions to Siyue’s current stability were immense. In his youth, his fondness for killing had made him a heavy drinker; in his later years he grew weary of the harshness of alcohol and preferred the refined art of tea.

Everyone else had arrived early and claimed their numbers for the first round. Fang Yu and Han Tianhua, by misfortune, had drawn the renowned Jin Mantang of the Jin family from Guiyuan Island, currently the talk of the celestial city.

Before he could return to life, Yun Feng’s gun had already fired. Two bullets pierced through Jason’s gun-wielding hand, and one tore through his thigh. Jason’s spirit was entirely restored, his cries of pain utterly wretched.

Li Siqi was well acquainted with Lu Junyi and Yu Guangcheng; though it was a family dinner, there was nothing awkward about it.

The personal guard once again raised his broadsword, ready to strike down upon Kuai Liang, who was slumped over his horse, enduring the agony of losing an arm.

No good girl would willingly marry someone flawed. Not only would she herself be unwilling, but her parents would never agree.

The Emperor Guyou’s thunderous laughter stirred all the clans, instantly igniting their spirits and driving them madly toward the divine world of Shenzhou.

If he opened his eyes, there was no telling—this girl might not shut her mouth; on the contrary, she’d become even more talkative.

The heritage of disciples from first-rate factions was unmistakable. The moment they made a move, the force was clearly that of an earth-level martial art—vast and overwhelming as the ocean itself, leaving spectators feeling as if a giant wave was about to crash down upon them.

Previously, the Divine Empress had secretly ensured that the Divine Crown Prince would not awaken. Now, with the supreme leader signaling action against Chu Yang, the Empress allowed the Crown Prince to wake and accused Chu Yang of being the true culprit behind that day’s events, pushing him into dire straits.

The Divine Marshal froze, his face tinged with panic. He had known of the supreme leader’s power back on Demon Peak, but never imagined the leader would also be involved in the divine realm’s internal strife. Thankfully, Chu Yang exposed the truth; otherwise, the consequences would have been unimaginable. The more he thought about it, the more fearful he became, sweat pouring cold down his brow.

Two brawny men in black entered first, followed by a young man wearing gold-rimmed glasses.

“Old Xia, Old Xia, slow down. Let me do it, let me do it. You lie down and rest.” On the other end of the line, Luo Xiuzhi’s muffled voice came through.

This was far too risky—she absolutely couldn’t allow him to gamble with his future and life for the sake of the company.

“Commander, Ninth Lord’s real name is Huo Liancheng, a prominent figure in Guangping. He controls numerous docks, dance halls, tobacco plants, textile factories, and more. Most importantly, he has an extensive network—well-connected in the military, business, and foreign concessions, and he associates closely with the new government.” Deputy Zhao reported every detail.

Amidst the old locust trees, there was a pitch-black object, startlingly out of place among the lush green leaves.

To pay a visit in the dead of night and bang on someone’s door just after exchanging a few words, unafraid of being thrown out—if it were modern times, even a group of night owls wouldn’t dare call someone at three or four in the morning just for their own amusement, unless they were close friends.

Tang Qi suddenly remembered she had crossed Lin Feng’s greatest taboo. Lin Feng had repeatedly instructed her: at no time, under any circumstances, was she to call him “husband,” for in his heart, that title was reserved for his wife alone, inviolable, even though Tang Qi had a place in his heart.

“You don’t sound well. Weiwei, what’s wrong?” Mrs. Zhou asked with concern.