Sleepwalking

The road to Qingning Mountain was now quite familiar to Ji Ningzhao. As soon as she arrived at the entrance of Qingci Temple, she saw Xie Qingfa’s junior sister waiting for her there.

“Ningzhao,” Pei Jiangyu greeted her warmly, obviously well acquainted. “Senior brother just arrived too. He’s in the back, talking to the guests.”

As Ji Ningzhao walked in with Pei Jiangyu, she asked about the guests—how did they seem?

Pei Jiangyu glanced around to make sure no one else was near, then lowered her voice and spoke to Ji Ningzhao, “This guest—”

But by now, so many things and people had appeared that had nothing to do with her past life. She was gradually getting used to it, so Ye Ran boarded the car and sat down beside Si Xuanmo.

The conversation between the Black Box and the Black Warrior was like a festival for their group. Unlike the lively chaos of the Yunwan district, it was a private celebration behind closed doors. They never cared to stir up trouble publicly—those in the know understood well enough.

“Today’s their anniversary—she and her boyfriend have been together since high school.” Xia Mo sat on Li Hao’s lap and looked up at him, her clear eyes flickering, as if waiting for his explanation.

These people were exceptionally united, forming a barrier so tight not even a sliver of insight could slip through. One could only circle on the outside, aimless and lost, for no matter how hard one tried, there was no way to break through their defenses and reach their hearts.

So when the person before her spoke these words, she was instinctively unwilling to believe them, even wishing to flee.

Emperor Li Er’s eyes brightened—the issue Old Tang had raised before the battle was about to begin was just right for renewed discussion now.

Director Liu had intended to refuse, but upon hearing that Luo Chen was at home, he hesitated, then said to wait for him, and soon returned home.

The bald man quickly took a deep breath to steady himself, but his gaze swept over the fleeing, desperate blacksmith. With a wave of his hand, three beads from his Buddhist rosary shot forth.

Yet he could not resist looking toward the distant Wang family mansion. Seizing the moment when the guards were distracted, he knocked them out, donned their uniforms, and slipped inside with a bit of disguise.

Si Xuanmo sat in the spacious villa by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his face dark and cold, like a beast on the verge of rage, ready to tear someone apart.

“Yamamoto, that old fox, chose to send you mainly to deploy a honey trap, hoping you’d seduce me over there, not actually bind and drag me away. He knows well that in all of Japan, no one can really beat me,” Mu Chendong said.

His words were laced with immense confidence. In that moment, Zi Han moved with him, stepping forth, surrounded by a profound aura. The brilliance burst forth, shattering the heavens, and Zi Han leapt atop it, radiance blooming, a terrifying power stirring the world.

After passing through the Lingjing Gate, she expected to be summoned immediately, but there was only delay. Upon inquiry, she learned that the Emperor Zhengqing had just gone to Longhua Palace.

The tip of the spear flashed, aimed at Ao Qiu’s escape path. His expression was calm as he gently struck with the spear.

The Ren family had offered the highest bid, second only to the Chen family, and Ren was one of the four great families of the magic capital. Especially when Chen Teng had spoken.

Time reversed—something not even immortals could do, yet Tianhao managed it, enough to shock the world. It was no wonder he was called the Son of Heaven.

“Pay for the damages at full value, and drag your useless brothers out of here. Don’t let them clutter up the place,” Zhao Nuanyang ordered.

He had deliberately washed the dirt from his face and arms, but still wore the old, blood-stained, torn garments, a stark visual contrast to his freshly cleaned body.

The fierce, icy wind rose once more, sharp enough to cut skin, sweeping over the summit of the snowy mountain.