Chapter 32: The Young Prince of Ning

Lord Qin knelt on the ground, his face etched with worry as he spoke softly, “Your Highness, please forgive my bluntness, but it would be wise to prepare Prince Ning’s affairs sooner rather than later.”

“What?” Chu Hanxiao felt a chill run through him at those words. “You mean...”

Lord Qin wiped away his tears with his sleeve and nodded solemnly. “Even if the Great Dao Immortals come, there’s nothing that can be done.”

Chu Hanxiao looked at the face of Chu Hanyun before him, noticing the eerie golden hue gradually fading away.

I stared at Lingge in stunned silence, my lips parting slightly but unable to utter a single word, a sharp pain lodged deep in my throat.

“Can you tell me how you did it?” Wei Cang’s heart brimmed with frustration; this defeat felt so unfair.

“Damn it, he’s trying to escape again! Let’s see where he thinks he can run.” The lecherous man’s face twisted with anger as he forcefully summoned the Blood Mist Banner. This time, it wasn’t just black fog; a blood-red mist began to spread around, carrying a nauseating stench as it pursued Bilian relentlessly.

Upon hearing this, Li Jue fell silent. Yet behind his deep gaze, Jiang Yi could clearly discern a faint sorrow.

With a sharp “crack,” a tingling sensation spread across my right hand. “Could it be that the Soulbreaker truly harbors no mercy and intends to kill Lingbo?” I thought to myself.

At the same time, he felt puzzled—how could Xiyu have found him? Could she possess some special divine ability? If so, that power might be worth acquiring, potentially invaluable in the future.

The vehicle roared away into the distance. Su Mo pulled her hood over her head and leaned against the window, the cold wind sending shivers down her spine.

Even the Corpse Emperor had not anticipated this—Qinglong’s vigilance was so sharp that it had evaded the toxic corpse’s attack.

He had only intended to teach them a lesson, hoping they would stop upsetting Lingling, but never foresaw such a tragic outcome, bringing shame upon himself.

Upon hearing this, I smiled brightly, my eyes curved in a gentle arc. But behind my veil, no one could see the kindness of that smile.

It felt so abrupt—why ask about “Huaxia” and not inquire if I were Japanese or Korean?

“Is it ten households or a hundred? Surely not a thousand.” Chu Xunyu asked again, leaving Muyuan puzzled.

The room’s arrangement was unremarkable; the furniture was ordinary, and even the teaware and miscellaneous items on the table showed no signs of anything unusual.

We wandered aimlessly like this for days on end, unaware of how much time had passed outside. When even my own heart could no longer recall the length of time, Siyu finally spotted something else.

Professor Wang Quan, somewhat old-fashioned, adhered to the philosophical core of “reconciling Confucianism, Buddhism, and Taoism,” seeking wisdom from Western philosophies while maintaining the essence of Huaxia and embracing external merits. He rejected complete Westernization.

“You need not prepare anything,” Su Mei smiled at her. After a moment, her expression shifted to confusion as she looked toward Yu Moli. In an instant, Yu Moli’s eyes dimmed; she slowly leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes.

Uncle Kong and I both stared at Zhang Dali, waiting for his response. After hesitation, Zhang Dali finally accepted Uncle Kong’s invitation.

In short, the metal armor, the formation flags, the formation plates, and those seven celestial-tier old monsters were all intricately connected, weaving together into a cohesive whole.

“Silver Blossom, keep going!” Song Paiyu shouted. He pulled a plastic clothes drying rod from his storage ring and tossed it to Xiao Yinhua.

The various machines and devices seemed to have been preserved as if still in production, astonishingly free from dust.

Xu Jian suddenly realized what he had just said and quickly turned away from Fu Yunyao, smiling as he said, “Junior Sister, of course I’ve eaten breakfast already.” Yet, he was still young and had not yet reached a level of composure; the desire and restraint in his eyes betrayed his emotions.