The eighth day of the fourth lunar month

No Taboos: My Husband the Dragon Medium The Crane on the Other Branch 1290 words 2026-04-13 20:24:49

Last night, after experiencing some setbacks at Ji Ningzhao’s place, Ying Chongyun went home and drank alone all morning, and in doing so, he instinctively grasped a truth of the human world. To court a wife, one cannot cling to pride—hold onto it, and she will slip through your fingers.

The resentment was real, but so was the love. Ying Chongyun gazed in the direction of Ji Ningzhao’s house and sighed inwardly; he could only proceed slowly.

After returning home, Ji Ningzhao tossed and turned in bed. She knew Ying Chongyun was still...

Elsewhere, most travelers on the official road bore healthy, ruddy faces—a sign they were well-fed.

The Fourth Prince responded, turned his horse, and Su Zijin followed Qin Jing’s lead, also turning her mount, preparing to return to the capital.

There were no words exchanged. Like a starving wolf, the assailant suddenly launched an attack, instantly closing in on Gu Xin. His fists flowed like water, yet struck with the sharpness of steel blades—strange indeed.

Dream Xing’er, still coloring her illustration, was so absorbed she missed the incoming messages and continued chatting with viewers in her live stream.

As it spoke, it walked over to a terrified young man bound tightly in the corner. Its head split open into a maw soaked in blood, and with a single bite, blood sprayed everywhere.

Gu Zelin leaned back in his chair, pondering how best to invite his senior. After much deliberation, he decided to use Dream’s approach.

In just two or three seconds, Gu Xin opened his eyes again, stood up, and, without hurrying away, kept vigil by the corpse of the “Phoenix Man.”

Luo Yining was already lying down, half-asleep, half-awake. Shen Nian first fetched a cooling patch and pressed it to Luo Yining’s forehead.

Shen Minglang’s handwriting was delicate, Wei Boyuan’s was neat and proper, while Fu Mingzhi’s letters were all twisted and crooked—yet at least it was legible.

Xia Ning shook her head. “I’ll wait right here.” She considered Consort Gu a hero, and felt safe at her side. Sitting in the car, she was afraid.

In the commentary booth, Wei Yishui, thrilled by the play he just witnessed, waved his arm excitedly and shouted, “Beautiful!” nearly landing a punch on Shiba.

After all, Tezuka came to Germany to become a professional player, not to join the German national team and compete against his own country.

“You have no business here. Enough with the damn nonsense, just say what you want. If it’s nothing, get lost already,” I said impatiently.

“You’re wasted not doing sales,” Wang Zhe remarked in the system, having found two types of potions. After checking the required experience points, he couldn’t help but mock the system.

So, in Xuanqing’s heart, he cared deeply about the Shi brothers and the Ghost of Shanxi Cave. If they truly pledged themselves to him, he could ask them to help establish the manor he had always dreamed of, and leave its management to them.

Since Donghuang Taiyi opened his heart, he has found that many things now become clearer.

Though Zhang Tongtong had tried countless times to integrate her psychic attributes, she wasn’t yet a master at controlling her mental strength, but at least she could handle it with reasonable ease.

“All those currently on Mars—all builders and service personnel are confined to isolated living quarters.”

“Hmph! Ma Fan injured my people and took my belongings. As the leader of a gathering point, I can’t let it go! Otherwise, how will I lead or manage in the future?” With that, he twirled the horn dagger in his right hand, while his left compressed the deadly lightning sphere in plain sight.

Currently, the KOO team, besides their starting five, brought along a substitute jungler. This move alone shows their concern over the jungle position—something Su Yi believes WOA can exploit.

A thrill of joy rose in his heart—how had he not thought of it? The coffin might very well be inside the altar.

Ye Changqing’s thick, flowing hair fluttered, but the devouring force within the eerie black mist could not harm him in the slightest.