Chapter 123: The Main Branch

Back in the guest room, Qin Xiao opened the window and looked down.

"Elder Ye, I noticed that the undergarments worn by those three women resemble those produced in the imperial palace; they are somewhat similar to what that little harlot Tang Li used to wear."

Upon hearing this, Ye Changmian was struck by a sudden realization. So, His Majesty was not merely indulging in lust. He did not bother to walk over and look; after all, Tang Li had once been the Noble Consort Li.

Lining it with his own...

"Delusional!" Dongfang Jiaoao scoffed with disdain, and after hurling that insult, he vanished. It must be said that as rivals, Dongfang Jiaoao and Ao Feng were quite similar, which perhaps explained their mutual hostility.

Yet, none of them answered me. They all stared at us with solemn, icy gazes, as if we were not living, breathing people, but mere chunks of meat on their chopping block.

Erza, Mira, Natsu, Gray, Levy, Happy, Elfman, Makarov, Macao, and so many others—those whose names I knew and those I did not—had all arrived. There were even a number of onlookers from the public.

In this dire emergency, the Young Master suddenly perceived something within his spiritual sense. Gritting his teeth, he flew toward that location.

The hem of her evening gown was not particularly short, reaching down to her ankles. Her jade-like feet were clad in a pair of black high heels adorned with silver beads. Because she wore no stockings, her ankles, exposed outside the shoes, were so fair they drew the eye. Paired with her peerless, beautiful face, Ye Fei was left momentarily dazed.

Her graceful figure, nearly invisible to the naked eye, danced as she swung her blade. Wielding the blunt, fearless sword, she shattered the defenses blocking her path one strike at a time.

Jiang Yuan assumed this was another one of Peng Shirong’s provocations and regretted asking him in the first place. She quickly composed herself, not wanting to argue with him: "Forget it if you won't say. I won't force you."

At the moment, the Young Master had developed an interest in Huang Si-jiu. However, winning this young woman's heart would not be simple. Setting aside the fact that she could not be judged by conventional standards, the upcoming martial arts tournament for her hand in marriage would be difficult to handle alone.

"I don't know." The Young Master was honest. His lips, stained with coffee, parted slightly as he spoke with a rustic, guileless air.

This was a father’s final request; setting aside all other factors, it was a plea I could not refuse.

"Uh, alright then. Once my muscles aren't so stiff, shall we go get a room?" Ouyang said shamelessly.

At the airport exit, a bright and beautiful figure squeezed into the crowd's view. With waist-length wavy hair and delicate, exotic features, she carried a faint air of cold indifference in her eyes. Yet, upon catching sight of a tall figure not far away, her face broke into the only smile she had shown all day, and she hurried toward him.

Nie Yongqing had lost a significant amount of money recently, leaving a gaping hole in his finances. Anxious and fearing he would have to answer to his wife, he relied on his connections and background to act recklessly at his own doorstep, even picking a fight with the three Sun brothers.

Zhan Yan'er was stunned, the words she had intended to beg him with stuck in her throat. Ma Qirui had guessed correctly; she had never truly intended to divorce Zhao Hangyuan, so if her reputation were ruined, her life would be destroyed.

"Yes, my files—I imagine the Dragon Group has already gathered most of them," Mo Ming said with a calm expression.

From the beginning, when Ouyang could barely throw a flying dagger a short distance or miss his mark entirely, to today, where he could hit his target with five daggers within thirty meters—though the distance was not great, it was a tremendous improvement.

According to the informant's report, Zhao Jingdong and Lu Liming must have known each other. When they met, not only did they exchange greetings, but they were able to call each other by name immediately. To say they were strangers would be impossible.

Murong Wange lifted a slender, jade-like finger to lightly stroke her own smooth, delicate skin, feeling not a hint of pride at her ex-husband's praise.