Volume 1, Chapter 58: Escaping the Summer Heat at the Imperial Villa

"Wake up, Your Grace."

Ye Yuntang slowly opened her hazy, phoenix-like eyes.

This sleep had left her utterly exhausted.

Although the interior of the carriage was lavishly upholstered, the ceaseless rocking and jolting over the past few days had drained her physical strength.

"This sleep has worn me out completely," Ye Yuntang said, suppressing a yawn.

Filled with a sense of unease, I hurriedly stepped forward to take a look. That single glance made it feel as though the blood in my veins had frozen to a halt, leaving me with only the sound of my own thundering heartbeat echoing in my ears.

Mochen's gaze instantly turned glacial, his pupils constricting as his body instinctively rolled backward. At that very moment, a dagger thrust fiercely forward, piercing straight through his robes and narrowly missing what would have been a fatal blow.

Zhuang Yao'er burned with fury while watching her mother's actions with mounting dread. She tried to pull Fairy Nixia to her feet, but failed to budge her.

As that sound faded, the vortex suddenly expanded, engulfing everything completely within its pull. Once the gale subsided, nothing remained before me. I knew she had safely departed to enter the cycle of reincarnation.

Hearing Song Jiao's solemn tone and resolute words, the entire family could not help but lower their heads in silence.

Yet, even though they could regenerate, the nine-headed beast derived almost all of its formidable powers directly from its nine heads.

Through the concerted efforts of the entire clan, it took a full five days to slice and sun-dry all the kudzu roots, which were then distributed to each household according to their labor and contributions.

From pasting spring couplets on the morning of New Year's Eve to setting off firecrackers at every mealtime come New Year's Day—especially the long string of firecrackers ignited in the dead of night to welcome the New Year—the traditions were strictly observed.

The Emperor was also left utterly bewildered. Why had the two nations suddenly withdrawn their troops? Were they afraid, or were they plotting a greater conspiracy?

Although spirit beasts seemed omnipresent and scattered across various regions, a race of high intelligence had long since formed one or even multiple formidable collectives. No human could ever easily insult, trample, or subjugate them.

For reasons unknown, at that exact instant, Li Xiang and Su Yuhan both felt a surge of unease in their hearts, as if foreboding some unknown peril.

This was precisely why Li Xiang forgave them. Everyone had their own aspirations, and Li Xiang never believed he could satisfy everyone's demands. When your conditions failed to fulfill another's desires, parting ways amicably and letting go was the most appropriate course of action.

Li Zehua had a hunch that if he could complete the Yin Five Elements, he would achieve a fundamental transformation. This elevation would allow him to surpass ordinary cultivators at every single tier, reaching an even more formidable realm.

This demonic foetus was formed entirely from his own vital energy, spirit, and essence. Infiltrating from his heart aperture, it had tainted his entire heart, turning it into a black, ominous entity. Tushan Rongrong surmised that the assailant intended to use this to corrupt his entire body and even his soul, but that person had miscalculated one thing.

After being sent flying by a single palm strike from Fang Wubing, the general vomited blood continuously. Just as Su Zhaongkong had predicted, once struck by the Thirteen Severed Veins Technique, he was rendered utterly powerless, currently as frail as an old mountain ram, leaving him completely at the mercy of anyone who wished to crush him to death.

The fifth floor of the teahouse spanned over a hundred square meters. The walls were adorned with framed ink paintings and calligraphy, creating a classical and antique ambiance. Along both sides of the main hall ran covered corridors with lacquered pillars, green tiles, and intricate, carved, and painted woodwork. Because a fine drizzle was falling outside, numerous birdcages hung from the eaves and beams, their chirping endless and melodious to the ear.

Feng Yiming looked at Ding Xiangzhong, whose face was plastered with oily smiles, and felt a wave of nausea. He took a few steps back and pointed at him, saying, "I can't stand that smile of yours the most; it's a sure sign of trouble!" From the side came the sound of Jiang Hai failing to hold back a burst of laughter.