Chapter Sixty-Four: The Counterattack

“Dalang, I’ve heard the Dongshan Academy has established a Virtue and Music Hall?”

After finishing the afternoon meal and clearing away the dishes, host and guests gathered together, sipping tea and chatting.

Madam Lou was a straightforward person. Or perhaps, in her eyes, Lou Yu was her own blood kin, her direct grand-nephew, making him family—so there was no need for subtlety or evasiveness.

After exchanging just a few polite words, Madam Lou went straight to the heart of the matter: “Ah Chi has been studying with the family tutor for two years, but it’s still not as good as learning at the academy.”

“Heh, you think you can run away after stepping into my territory?” With a snap of her fingers, two men in black entered, dragging Tang Ke’er away.

Take, for example, the Black Tiger. The Black Tiger is an earth-type magical beast, its power lies in controlling the land; naturally, the elemental stone within its body is an earth-elemental stone.

Ling Yun’s pupils contracted. He gripped his greatsword with both hands and brought it down heavily on the wooden spear lunging toward him. The explosive crash resounded through the entire domain, a tremendous wave of force violently rippling outwards. The greatsword in Ling Yun’s hands was nearly shattered, yet still, inch by inch, it began to cut into the wooden spear.

That’s simple enough. All Yue Li had to do was give the security guard a slight smile. The uncle was instantly bewitched, his soul completely captivated, and obediently let Yue Li and her friends inside.

“Xuan Zhen Envoy, take him down and let him rest well. Pass the order: set sail for the palace.” The man in white boots calmly gave instructions to the Xuan Zhen Envoy, as if he hadn’t heard a word I’d said.

In his hand, he felt only a feather-light emptiness, as if he were holding a plume—utterly weightless.

Under the dim moonlight, one could faintly make out a man reduced to little more than a skeleton. Though his appearance was ghastly, as if all flesh and blood had been sucked from his body, several upright silver quills still adorned his head—a mark of the Silver Quill Porcupine clan.

Lan Xinyan said: Painting is like a drug to me—an addiction, a rush. For the sake of art and dreams, I’ve braved the world alone, endured hellish training; for dreams, none of this matters—after all, we love to paint. For painting, I’ll work all night, losing myself in a world of color and light.

Wahaha! I knew it—no matter how cold and aloof Qingling seems, in my hands, she’ll obediently bow to my diaper… I don’t even have to put it on; Qingling’s brand automatically strings itself with the red thread and my name tag, giving off a crisp, ringing chime.

Then the assassins from the Fire God Sect appeared. They purposely injured Xia Yun with Nirvana Flame, then had that golden-haired elder lure them to Nanjing. While Mu Tongzi and Xiong Ti were locked in fierce battle, the assassins seized the opportunity, capturing Xia Yun.

With a piercing final note, the magical chant finally ended. All four spellcasters looked utterly drained, barely able to stand, as if the spell had cost them an enormous amount of energy.

For Regnar, half a year was more than enough time to learn the ropes. He didn’t truly intend to leave everything to Alex. In truth, Regnar lacked the confidence to manage such a large organization himself.

How could there not be profit? Buy during a slump, wait for prices to surge, then sell high—everyone’s pockets were overflowing.

One upstairs, one downstairs… The one below was Leng Yan’s old room, now given to Great-Grandmother.

Ling Junyan’s eyes were red as he solemnly patted Zhou Xuanjun’s shoulder before leaving the morgue first. Once outside, he couldn’t hold back, squatting down to weep.

With such a bombshell, it would be a waste not to stir up some hype. Right now, she was being pushed into the center of the storm because of this child. Yet her boss, Yu Bo Lan, was furious—he’d rather blacklist and bury her than let her use this for fame.

Xiong Ti couldn’t help but sigh inwardly. This old monk was surely a peerless master; he’d already seen as much, but he never imagined the monk’s iron fists had reached the realm of the Celestial and the Demonic. His technique was silent as a whisper, and the force from his blows could seemingly turn illusion into reality.