Chapter 37: Can You Protect Lu Qingqing?

After Jiang Jiuyue finished bandaging her wounds, Shen Jin had already gone to handle affairs within the city.

The people she had sent out to investigate returned quickly.

Jiang Jiuyue was so angry that her face was nearly contorted. She listened as her subordinate recounted the events in detail.

“What did you say? Lu Qingqing was also there?!” Jiang Jiuyue nearly screamed herself hoarse—she had thought it was because of Madam Yu.

...

Because Han Youjia had encountered trouble, and since there might be a conspiracy involved behind the scenes, Tang Yuchen devoted all his attention to the matter. However, the moment he heard Su Zhimo was in danger, he immediately put aside his work.

Repaying kindness with kindness—even though he didn’t know exactly what had happened to require Mayor Qiao’s intervention, he was willing to help, using this incident as an opportunity to persuade the other party to leave.

Wen Shan forced herself to calm down and tried to reason with herself this way, but for some reason, she still felt a faint anxiety.

Until yesterday, Paris had been either rainy or overcast, with a biting chill in the air. But last night, the skies cleared, and by early morning, the sun shone brilliantly, warming the city considerably.

She truly longed for a life of her own, for her own career. She was not just a decorative vase, meant only to be displayed—she wanted to realize her dreams, to do the things she yearned for.

Du Si, seeing Feng Biao stumble, took advantage of Yang Feng’s distraction, seized a long iron rod, and swung it at Yang Feng’s waist. Yet he hadn’t expected Yang Feng to pick up a large machete from the ground and face him head-on. With his newfound clairvoyant vision, Yang Feng’s spiritual energy brimmed within him, and his strength was fierce; the power behind his machete was far superior to that of the iron rod.

In an instant, a terrifyingly loud explosion erupted on all sides.

Her long, ink-black hair, already loose, fanned out completely with a turn of her head, revealing her exquisitely contoured nape. Her eyes, lively and clever, curved into crescents when she smiled—like the moon on the horizon—while her rosy cheeks bloomed with two charming clouds.

Yet even if the descendants of Heavenly Justice could be blocked, it was certain they could not be delayed for long.

He was never worried about selling his house in the capital, and with the way things had unfolded, he even thought the price could be raised.

A monk from Tiandu Temple smiled at Zhao Ming and the others, then turned to the disciples behind him and said, “We cannot simply let the remnants of the demonic sect escape. Eliminating them is our foremost task.” With that, he led the pursuit.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine.” Yang Jian didn’t know why, but this thought rose in his heart. Nevertheless, as someone who always followed his instincts, he would not go against them. Moreover, Yang Jian was now in the Spirit Fusion realm—merging with nature and following one’s heart was the most proper attitude.

“So this is the Black Tower you spoke of?” Qiao Lim looked up at the towering structure that seemed to pierce the clouds. He could clearly sense the strange energy within; the energy field it emitted was much like that of Gao Mu. Perhaps there was some connection between them.

“Subordinate…” That elder hadn’t finished speaking when Grand Elder Xia Yuan raised his hand, prompting him to fall silent immediately. His eyes kept flickering pleadingly toward Xia Haixiao beside him.

“The Sixth Riders are here, Zaijin, make sure nothing goes wrong.” The city had received word that the Shrine would be sending someone, and yesterday, Sakura had also instructed them on part of the plan before leaving. Clearly, everything was unfolding step by step.

Xia Mingfeng’s face instantly flushed a deep red, and he wished he could disappear into the floor. Wang Jue and the others, not knowing what had happened, could only see Xia Mingfeng’s face turning crimson.

After another round of feasting, man and bug once again set off, speeding toward the Turbulent Valley.

Zhong Mushan spoke with elegance; his tone was neither harsh with command nor humble with supplication, yet it compelled obedience all the same.