Volume One, Chapter 72: Undercurrents Surge

“I have only one condition—absolute independence! No one is to interfere with my decisions. If you agree to this, I’ll take the job. If not, find someone else.” Montage stated his demand.

“Absolute independence?” Huang the Diviner looked at him with some confusion.

“Yes. I don’t want anyone pointing fingers at me or meddling during my term.”

He was tall and slender, dressed in a black Daoist robe that had somehow survived countless years and yet looked vivid and lifelike. Behind that robe, one could faintly glimpse the outline of a mighty mountain, atop which countless powerful figures knelt in worship before a cave, as if engaged in some ancient rite.

The bag of silver was weighty, causing the madam’s face to break into a delighted smile as she patted her chest in earnest assurance.

Yet she was not happy at all. The moment she stepped off the plane, regret flooded her, an overwhelming urge to return home surging within. But she understood that, having made her choice, she must grit her teeth and persevere. Both her parents were ordinary civil servants; she did not have the luxury of caprice.

A year passed in a flash. The fearful look Blessing Wuyou had upon her arrival was utterly gone.

Xi Hua’s cultivation had imperceptibly advanced again, now feeling not much less than Lin Hai on the verge of his own breakthrough.

Grandfather Mo repeatedly instructed Mo Sihan over the phone that, no matter what, he must return to the Mo family tonight.

After Bu Zhijue stepped out, he froze briefly before vanishing from sight in a flash.

As the saying goes: the poor have their worries, and so do the rich. In this world, no one remains triumphant forever.

Satisfied, I nodded at the Calamity Python, which then returned to my body. Turning to the old man Hou Zhiduan, I said, “If you have any other tricks, show them now.”

Area 51 sits in the Emigrant Valley, at the very center of the basin where Mavgan Lake lies—a dry stretch of land about six kilometers long and five kilometers wide.

Though furious, he knew full well that before the Emperor, he could not make a case, so he said nothing about bringing him before the Emperor and instead suggested the Ministry of War.

At this moment, Chen Xuan turned away and looked silently at the astonished Cheng Yun. When it came to such secret techniques, Chen Xuan had no intention of being the first to “taste the crab,” so he set his eyes on Cheng Yun. If it succeeded, all would be well; if it failed, it wouldn’t affect him.

A resounding slap landed on Su Chenyang’s face, leaving him stunned. The hand gripping Hong Yan was also released.

In truth, if it weren’t for the ongoing auction, the Poison King—given his vengeful nature—would have struck long ago.

The old man tossed a few pieces of firewood into the still-burning stove, atop which several round, bamboo-crafted objects were stacked.

Wei Changfeng’s mind was in turmoil. Were these two questions even related? He shook his head.

The crowd watched as Xia Changfeng was swung through the air by Chen Xuan and then slammed hard onto the arena.

The cloying words wounded me deeply. I could only call on Monkey and Chicken and, to my shame, admitted defeat.

Liu Dingtian cast a glance at Huang Yu, hesitated no longer, and followed him inside. The eight patrolling disciples did nothing to stop them.

As these thoughts ran through his mind, Daoist Ruofeng’s gaze became firmer, pondering how best to invite Cloud Dust into the Heavenly Division.

“Chen Lin had so many opportunities at the buffet, and you didn’t seize a single one! What a waste!” Liu Yang chimed in.

The Demon Emperor’s Hall was magnificent and imposing, with towering columns and a domed ceiling. Everything within was opulent and splendid. Of course, maintaining such grandeur required diligent and dutiful servants.

“What’s wrong? Does Mother not trust her son?” A trace of indifference passed over Dragonscale Fei’s handsome face, his dark eyes staring unblinkingly at Tian Xue as he spoke.