Chapter Twenty-One: The Orphanage Boy

What did that girl just say? Alone? So, the one crouching in the snow with Zhao He is actually the spirit of a little boy? Tang Wange hesitated, unsure whether to approach, when he suddenly saw Zhao He standing up before him.

Holding a black umbrella, he walked toward Tang Wange and the director in the corridor, accompanied by the little boy.

Only at this moment did Tang Wange clearly see the boy’s pale face—and then, just as the boy took a step forward, a leather cord suddenly tightened around his neck from above. Before he could even make a sound, he was dragged off the ground, soaring upward.

“Enough. Isn’t Director Fan in North America? Shouldn’t it be the middle of the night there by now?” Lin Xiao, of course, didn’t admit anything and instead turned the question back.

Si Ya felt a shiver run down her spine under Ruoshui’s piercing gaze, as if she’d become completely transparent, her innermost self laid bare with a single look.

Friends should be like Xiao Jie. Perhaps before, people only noticed her because she was beautiful, but at this moment, they truly admired the sincere friendship between her and Lin Xiao.

However, Lin Xiao was no longer the same. Back then, he was just a newcomer; now, he was undoubtedly a top-tier star.

A perfectly normal comment was twisted into something so suggestive by Mo Ling that Mu Jin immediately shot him a glare.

The old donkey let out a wild roar, staggering in place and spinning around in disbelief as he looked at everything around him.

“Fine, this time it serves as a lesson for them. I’ll be magnanimous and let them off once!” Du Yunfeng gritted his teeth and instantly used “Divine Escape” to appear before the two, then dispelled the opponent’s cold blade with two slashes of sword energy.

Everyone looked at him speechlessly. Damn it, are you possessed by the spirit of contrariness? Feeling all eyes on him, Yuu Matsue instinctively shut his mouth and sulked into his seat.

She lay beside him but wouldn’t even let him touch her. He prided himself on not being impatient, yet she stirred his blood into a fervor.

It was only when the waiter came over carrying a tray that the increasingly intimate atmosphere between them was broken.

The moment his feet touched the ground, even Jiang Wangcao, who was about to flee, couldn’t help but shudder and halt, his eyes filled with terror.

The Hall of the War God was a terrifying existence. They were the first-generation bloodline heirs of ancient Chinese war generals. Shen Yumen was among them—the first-generation heir of the ancient mighty general. They were powerful, dreadful, but they could not leave the Hall of the War God for long; otherwise, they would vanish.

Meanwhile, Jiang Huairen and Yan Hongtu arrived at the Haitiansheng Villa, where Bai Niansheng and others were confronting the stationed troops, seemingly on the verge of conflict.

This was the most expensive real estate in J City, surrounded by wealthy magnates. It was Qin Zhao’s home yesterday.

“Strangely, those formed from black mist didn’t pursue us?” Jiang Huairen looked upward; they hadn’t followed him down. He circled the strange tree, seemingly searching for something.

Coming here to seek help from Instructor Park, he only held a faint hope, not expecting much.

After a hearty meal and drink, Tang Guoan, already about seventy or eighty percent drunk, suddenly called out to Chen Qizun outside.

The three hurried on their way. Before long, they reached beyond the East Gate. After walking a while longer, a magnificent building suddenly appeared before them. Though it was night, the place was still bustling, showing no sign of the silence outside the city.

“Father Emperor, it is all my incompetence that caused you to lose the pearl of the crown,” the young man in the white robe with twin horns approached the Eastern Sea Great Emperor, his face full of disappointment.