Chapter 12: The Brute
The indigo carriage stopped outside the Peaceful Inn, and the people waiting in line outside murmured in low voices, “The magistrate has arrived.” As the carriage halted, the magistrate, dressed in plain clothes, stepped out. The crowd parted to make way for him.
Magistrate Liu nodded slightly and strode inside. No one mentioned any waiting tokens; the inn’s staff hurried to greet him.
“Sir, our manager is upstairs, Mr. Fang is there too, the registrar is in this room, and Master Zhao, as well as the Huang family…”
Darui gripped the Golden Tree of Pan Shi tightly with his right hand and clung to the water-blue mane of the Thunder Beast with his left, his legs squeezing firmly as he struggled to keep his balance. Only by exerting himself did he avoid being thrown off by the beast’s desperate thrashing. But in that state, all he could do was hang on—attacking was out of the question.
Nevertheless, when Franck Ribéry joined Manchester United, the fans were overjoyed. Old Guo, however, had thought ahead, realizing that the master and disciple were both flustered and disorganized. He had already booked a hotel for them in advance, instructing them to take the animals out of the city first. For tonight, he could hide in the hotel and wait to see whether the matter would simply fade away or become more serious.
The next day, Qu Yi brought his men to Xin Ping’s residence. Xin Ping promptly had them invited inside.
She had been prepared to die, her resolve set on suicide, but when she suddenly saw Darui Geia, her former nemesis, tears inexplicably welled up in her eyes. Perhaps, deep down, she believed Darui would save her. Unexpectedly, Darui’s reaction was as cold as a dousing of icy water.
“Of course we’ll go to war! Not only will we fight, but we’ll also raze his stronghold Kruea to the ground!” Sultan Mehmed II declared coldly.
“All right, cover us as we board the plane. We’re taking him with us!” Wang Chaoyang ordered, pointing to the chieftain.
Now, it hardly mattered anymore; after all, winning or losing was just about money. For a streamer, it meant earning a few gifts. Since Chen Han didn’t have a live channel, she could only accept cash payments, and perhaps add a new friend—it was a good thing, wasn’t it? After all, building connections was still rather important these days.
As the match ticked down, fans at the stadium and in front of their televisions grew increasingly tense, wishing the game would end quickly. Leeds United supporters were anxious—was their record truly about to be broken? They felt unwilling and hoped for a miracle.
Thinking that she would have to continue today, Tong Lele felt as if she’d hoisted a stone just to drop it on her own foot.
In reality, Yue Zhengyang hadn’t even gripped the sword; he was merely holding it up, so Pei Hongying snatched it back with ease. Watching Pei Hongying hold the sword, he wore a look of sly satisfaction.
Seeing Han Yuniang in tears, Pei Yan was flustered and lost his composure. He knew that during his absence, Han Yuniang must have suffered greatly, yet he had never imagined she’d endured so much and kept it all to herself, pretending to be strong.
To casually disclose a patient’s condition to a stranger is the most irresponsible thing a healer can do—a taboo in the medical profession. If anything went wrong, he could never bear the responsibility.
Mr. X called over a waiter and ordered an orange juice and a slice of tiramisu for Qin Kexia.
Pei Yan thought of something no one else had considered. Sun Youcheng’s anger seemed quenched, like a fire doused with water; now, only surprise lingered toward Pei Yan.
As Zhang Yuqi reached the doorway, her toe caught on something, causing her to stumble and nearly fall headlong to the floor.
Wang Yan suddenly recalled what Chen An had once said: if she could fight for it, she should at least try.
“My husband once told me that he regards His Majesty as a brother. My husband has only one younger sister, and to meet someone in his lifetime who treats him so well as the emperor does is his greatest fortune.”