Chapter Sixty-Five: My Spiritual Power Has Increased Just a Little

At Bai Ce’s feet lay a headless corpse—the same one who had been cursing incessantly just moments ago. After driving off Boss Gao, Wang Yuan casually swept the jade pendant and gold from the table into his backpack, then rose to his feet.

Man Xing’s excitement was barely contained; he licked his parched lips, finally unleashing the pressure he had been holding back. The power swirling around him surged, and with rhythmic movements of his fingers, a vortex as deep as the night sky formed.

Seeing Cup Not Empty fuming with rage, Dao Ke Dao smiled faintly, tauntingly beckoning with a finger. With that, Dao Ke Dao shifted the energy in his dantian, and an enormous spectral sword descended from the heavens, enveloping him completely.

Just then, news arrived from outside: Ying Zheng had returned to the Zilan Pavilion with Flame Spirit Concubine in tow.

Yet, compared to the confusion and anxiety in the imperial court, the situation for Pure Yangzi and his two companions was no better.

“Really?” Big Hammer, too, could no longer stand to see Ruo Xue suffer. Besides, the power of the Soul Clan’s bloodline was not so easily won; the price exacted was equally steep.

Whenever Dragon City Fortress faced a threat, the central tower would immediately sound the alarm. The alert had five levels, with red being the highest.

Cheng Zijin had been confined to the tomb chamber for over seven centuries, never venturing far. In her youth she recuperated at the Loyal Marquis’s estate, later cultivating among the Immortals. She regarded this as a rare excursion—though her expression betrayed nothing unusual, she spoke far more than usual.

All around Zuo Yi, mounds of earth erupted and burst open, and thick, inky green vines, as massive as giant pythons, shot up from the ground, lashing toward him from every direction in a wild frenzy.

“What is this place?” Helian Nuo stretched lazily, took the wooden basin from the burly man, and slowly washed his hands.

Xiang Lai and Leng Yan, leading their horses, checked into the Guestful Inn. Once everything was arranged, Xiang Lai accompanied Leng Yan out into the streets. Ostensibly they were shopping, but in truth, they were sizing up the number of martial artists in town, making mental preparations for what might come.

This was the sea of consciousness. The Ninth Lady had already guessed that the sudden shattering could not have been the work of the Spider Empress. After all, she too desired Xia Tian’s body, not a ruin. That could only mean Xia Tian had thought up the “Ninth Lady.”

She felt something warm at her neck, driving away the chill, only to be replaced by searing pain and a fading awareness.

At that moment, a knock sounded at the door. With a call to “Come in,” Sun Mantang poked his head in timidly and entered.

If she did not embrace him, Mumu would become emotionally unbalanced and suffer from hormonal disruptions, for it was an unbreakable habit formed over many years.

“Bulma, give up already. Hmph, you’re so obsessed, but he’s never even glanced your way. He doesn’t know you at all. There’s no chance,” Oolong gloated.

Three days passed, and even Ilafi had quietly slipped away yesterday. Yan Fei made no move to “keep her”—she left on instinct, and without the help of the Twin Angels, he had no confidence in retaining the Despair Demon King.

At this time, Yue Longtian seated himself beside Long Anqi, his gaze fixed on the street. He had noticed Long Anqi’s lonely figure from upstairs and had come down, filled with words he wished to speak to her alone.

Xiang Ying’s face remained expressionless, but his grip on Li’er’s hand was tight. He was both nervous and excited—sixteen years shut away, desperate for news of his family, yearning unbearably.

Jiang Ruoyao’s smugness was palpable even through the screen, prompting a flood of mocking comments from the audience.

“You’re Li Mingyang?” Liu Shishi suddenly dashed from the first row to stand before him, her face full of curiosity.

When the three returned to the main hall, they found both coffins sealed. In the tremulous candlelight, only the black lacquered surfaces faintly revealed subtle patterns. Boss Song was directing two workers in short jackets to ensure the coffins were perfectly sealed.

The Sixth Ancestor of the Heavenly Profound Sect had emerged from seclusion, personally erasing the remnants of Fairy Hongyue’s soul from the blood jade pendant and successfully establishing his ownership.

Though this place lay on the border of two nations, the absence of large-scale war for many years had made it lively and prosperous—streets bustling, carriages and travelers crowding the avenues, commerce thriving.

Now that the Golden-Backed Giant Ape had returned, the other demon monkeys dared not act out, retreating obediently after being scolded.

Inside the hall, candlelight flickered, casting crisscrossing shadows; the atmosphere was so heavy it pressed upon the heart. Lin Zhong, worried, was the first to speak.

Zhang Jianzhi kowtowed, accepted the rites of apprenticeship, and so became his student. Heaven, earth, ruler, parents, teacher—Li Chengqian had two of these, wielding power equal to his own parents. Henceforth, if Zhang Xuanbi wished to discipline his son, he would first have to consult the teacher.

Hearing this, Boss Zheng couldn’t help but give Emperor Taizu his due—such ruthlessness explained how a beggar could rise to the throne.

“I told you, you’re just too anxious. A child’s life is the most normal thing in the world. Don’t worry. Now go wash up, I’ve already had breakfast prepared,” Shangguan Ao said with a gentle smile.

Luo Chenyang was not indifferent—Chi Qiao’s words were a festering wound in his heart, one that years had not healed.

What Xi Ru wanted to say was not just about life after marriage, but about the past too. She didn’t know if Shangguan Ao could accept her history; she dared not even think about it. The night was so cold, and her own touch so painful—such nightmares she never wished to recall.