Chapter Ninety-Three: Unloading Together

The honest old man fumbled through his pockets, piecing together every last bit he had before finally pulling out a few wrinkled red bills. Su Lin’s brows drew together slightly.

The man was pitiful, but Su Lin could not let him think that, because nothing serious had happened, he could be bullied and have it brushed aside.

Thinking the young man was dissatisfied, even the doctors nearby grew anxious and were about to speak up for the old man, but no words came.

“This is all I have on me. How about I pay you the rest later, after I finish this run? All right, young man?”

“I’ll leave my ID card here. If I don’t come back to bring you the money...”

Everyone’s gaze converged. They saw a figure sent flying backward—or rather, a long staff had been driven clean through his chest, blasting his body away with overwhelming force.

“Yesterday, yesterday...” Xiao Xiaowei grew even more nervous. It was no longer just her face that was red; she could feel the roots of her ears burning too.

He turned his back, the pressure in his chest suffocating. He did not like this emperor-father; he hated him to the bone. Yet when he looked back and saw that fallen figure, it felt as though his own heart had shattered as well. Fate always seemed to enjoy toying with him: whatever he wanted, he could never keep, never obtain. From this day on, his heart would hold only the realm, and nothing else.

“Qi Ye.” Tears shimmered in his eyes, and the lamplight passing through them seemed to lay a soft glow over Qi Ye in his gaze.

“Go on,” Kang Mang’ang said, changing his posture and signaling Luqi to tell him everything he did not know.

“Hmph. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re plotting. If you want to keep playing with me, I’m still game!” Li Hongwu naturally knew that Zeus and Sun Ze meant no good, and he exposed them without hesitation right in front of their faces.

A fear impossible to suppress rose from the hearts of the two men and spread wildly, as if it would bore deep into their bones and carve itself into their very flesh, leaving them with no thought of resistance or concealment.

After pacing back and forth twice, he slammed his fist onto the table. “What on earth is going on with Xiao Ran?” He kept feeling that Xiao Ran’s sudden move to investigate HC must have been aimed at something specific.

Some watched with schadenfreude, some with despairing hearts, but just as the long staff came crashing down, Dong Qizhi’s body twisted strangely like a rope of dough, then abruptly dispersed into the dust and air. There was no trace of him left anywhere.

The person behind him silently lowered his head. He looked off into the distance, where emptiness stretched boundlessly. For some reason, he did not feel the aversion toward Qing Chen that he had expected. Perhaps it was because of that first meeting, when Qing Chen had seemed as gentle and polished as jade. He was different from the demons in his mind.

She knew that if she jumped, it might still be a dead end for her. But she could not stand by and watch He Zhan die before her very eyes.

Zhen Xing looked at the backs of the three of them, not knowing whether they had heard. He opened the door and walked toward the wooden bed.

How many true A-listers were there, anyway? Yet she, a bit-part player who drifted from cameo to cameo, had somehow gathered so many fans, leaving many people utterly stunned.

The Hall of Everlasting Light was the emperor’s sleeping chamber, but its name was not set in stone. Every new sovereign, upon ascending the throne, could rename it as he pleased. This hall had been renamed by Shangguan Yifeng. Though the old plaque still hung there, the new name would be mounted on the day of his enthronement.

“Elder Yu already said it: if you are to protect her, then he is your master! You should obey your master. Hmph, Si Xi agrees.” After speaking, Si Xi shot Yu Ji a glare.

“And me too. Oh, right—Uncle Luo, Second Uncle Luo, and Sister Diandian will all give you a big red envelope,” Ouyang Shuhua added.

It was really only a few lines; there was nothing technically difficult about it. It was just a supporting role, after all—playing a little uneasy would work, and playing it naturally would work too.

“Perfect timing. We have nothing to do as well, so we can lend you a hand!” Yong Mingguo agreed readily.

I did not know what he was. Though I had never believed in ghosts or gods, the illusory spirit before my eyes still made my heart give an occasional jolt.