Chapter Three: Hope Decides to Write a Letter to Uncle Siyuan (6.6k words, please support with votes)

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As he kept writing, Xu Chengjun realized something—“The Red Ribbon” didn’t seem to be finished yet. He furrowed his brow and made up his mind. Forget it, never mind! Excellent authors are always juggling multiple projects!

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Early the next morning, Su Manshu dragged Xu Xiaomei to Nanjing Road, saying she wanted to take her sister shopping. Xu Chengjun had no choice but to pause his grand creative plans.

“Zixiang, isn’t this too cruel? Their feet can’t take it,” Mu Yu approached, pointing at the boys.

With a flick of his fingers, a thread of spiritual energy sliced through the air. The spectral light serpents darting about quickly evaded it, but those caught by the sweep of energy vanished instantly into nothingness.

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Zhuang Cheng cracked his knuckles, and with a sharp whoosh, a long sword on his back shattered the silence, cutting through the sky with a pale violet aurora. Its keen edge seemed capable of piercing the heavens.

“Captain Ma, my troops are no longer the Northern Garrison—they are now the Liangzhou Army!” Liu Fan declared proudly.

Among the eighty-three men were locals from Los Angeles as well as others from across the United States. Their backgrounds were a chaotic mix: guns, illicit trades, smuggling, robbery, legitimate businesses… a true melting pot of all walks of life.

A well-dressed young man held a pistol and slowly approached Diane. Though handsome, he was ruthless.

“Customary fees? Isn’t that just bribery? What do you want?” Zixiang pondered. He didn’t have much to offer—what if he couldn’t satisfy their demands?

The sluice gate creaked as the mechanical gears closed it. The rushing water gradually quieted, reduced to a mere trickle.

Suddenly, a flash of spiritual light flared, and she recalled that punch—the one that dominated her vision before she lost consciousness. She lowered her gaze to her empty hands.

Though the older brothers didn’t quite understand the notion of “gratitude,” when the countdown for the deal began, each snapped back to reality as if retrieving their souls.

“The seventeenth time? What seventeenth time?” Shilan blinked, puzzled as she glanced at Fourier, who kept his head down, sweeping the floor.

After the departure of Er Yang, only the Sun Desheng brothers and Xiao Yifeng remained at the Polling Bureau. At this moment, another black-clad figure stirred slightly, showing signs of awakening, but Che Qianzi unleashed an arc of electricity, knocking him out once more.

No one knew what she was thinking—rejecting a good nobleman yet obsessing over the Eighth Prince with such intensity. It was quite contradictory.

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“You’re just talking nonsense now, aren’t you? You won’t catch that train at this point. Stay at my place tonight. I’ll arrange a plane for you first thing tomorrow.” Che Qianzi opened the door and saw Kong Dalong standing outside, smiling broadly.

The entire base deck was shrouded in mist, yet within a radius of dozens of meters around the figure clad in silver armor, there was nothing but emptiness. He stood quietly atop a pitch-black six-pointed star scorched by flames, surrounded by droplets of water and sparks.

As for the former Crown Princess Yinzhen, he did not spare her either. After all, she had years of training as heir apparent, more than capable of serving as his deputy.

Were they hoping for her downfall? Or was their master hoping for it? If so, why would they come all this way? Was it necessary?

Captain Wang quietly drew his waist knife and immediately covered the mouth of the nearest constable. Then, with a swift motion, he drew the blade across that man’s neck.

In truth, the soldier just now could have been killed already, but Ye Wang ordered him to attack the rear troops first, delaying for a moment before signaling that close-combat soldier.

Yan Qiu noticed her son lost in thought, a faint smile playing on her lips, her expression gentle. Her eyes flickered with hope—the eldest daughter-in-law was about to enter the family.

“Uh, uh, uh, Martial God Your Majesty, this old one has a word to say but doesn’t know if it should be spoken,” Jin Shengqilin bowed respectfully to the Northern Martial God.