Chapter Eighty-One: The Banquet

Mu Chengyao was led into the reception hall by the servants of the Chen residence. He hadn’t waited long before Lu Yalan entered, her graceful figure bathed in sunlight, causing him to pause in awe for a moment.

He was used to Lu Yalan’s traditional attire, but today she suddenly appeared in a dress, brimming with youthful energy. In a flash, he was reminded that she was only a nineteen-year-old girl. Mu Chengyao knew Lu Yalan was beautiful; when he first had the chance to see her face beneath her bangs, he too had been stunned. Yet, the longer they spent together, the beauty that had once dazzled him gradually faded, replaced in his heart by her stubborn strength, intelligence, and gentle warmth.

Now, seeing how a simple change in her appearance made her so different from before, that long-dormant sense of astonishment returned once more.

Lu Yalan saw Mu Chengyao and her eyes lit up.

“What’s wrong, Yanqing, didn’t you used to love eating beef the most?” An Ziying blinked her large eyes in confusion, taking a moment to realize.

“Master, is there a time limit?” Qi Jing didn’t believe Zhuo Yilan would let him investigate for too long.

Chenchen, with her slender phoenix eyes, cast an appraising look at Gu Yeting, her gaze silently accusing him: it’s all your fault that Tongtong cried.

“How could there be no enmity? She stole the list of our covert agents, causing the deaths of many in our country,” Qin Luo blurted out the pain in his heart, only realizing after he spoke that it was not as difficult as he imagined.

Perhaps his actions were too gentle, or perhaps Elena had simply cried herself out, but at last, the sobbing ceased.

Judging by Fu Mingyue’s expression, it was obvious she had no idea what had happened. Such an important matter, yet Su Chenxi hadn’t discussed it with her beforehand, leaving it buried deep within, and claiming he was ill besides.

Madam Gu heard footsteps behind her, and with Leng Lin’s reminder that Su Chenxi was approaching, she halted her steps but did not turn around.

“But regardless, since Sister Yezi has returned today, we can improve things again.” That was Zhang Xingfa’s main concern.

When the kiss ended, he lingered, kissing her lips once more, his throat letting out a faint gasp. His other hand clasped her soft waist, as if he wished to merge her into himself.

This kind of assessment was far more straightforward and rough; after all, the elder only needed to sweep his senses over them to roughly ascertain their martial cultivation level.

Liu Yao lay contentedly atop the corn in the cargo bed of the Red Flag tractor, legs crossed, speaking leisurely.

With his firm voice, earnest expression, and a body as sturdy as a mountain, Yang Dawei exuded an undeniable aura of authority.

It was, after all, the strongest realm among the intermediate planes; even though most of the evil creatures had been reduced to protected species, the power of this plane itself remained formidable.

Most likely because three out of the four of them were Chinese, the search had been especially thorough, including several well-known characters.

Thus, even Jiang Liuer, who had performed remarkably along the way, was seen by them as merely having had a bit more luck.

Directly above the blood pool, a figure hung upside down, floating, long hair trailing almost to the surface of the blood.

Robin smiled brightly; although the Straw Hat Crew were all such fools, always scrambling to ‘take the blame,’ they were the most reassuring place in the world.

Had the Twelve Golden Immortals of the Chan sect not underestimated Haotian, repeatedly tarnishing the image of the Heavenly Court, Haotian wouldn’t have shamelessly gone to the Purple Cloud Palace to complain.

“That’s right, Doflamingo’s String-String powers are perfect for suturing wounds. Not only sterile and flexible, but since they’re creations from Roman’s abilities, they possess a ‘biological’ attribute, allowing them to perfectly fuse with the flesh and blood of any injury.”

She refused to give up, calling out for the duration of an incense stick, her voice growing hoarse, until finally the chief eunuch emerged from the hall.

In no time, a middle-aged man seemed to awaken from a stone statue, stepping out from within and approaching Fang Zelin.

But he was a typical traditional Chinese thinker—this was unchangeable. The continuation of the family line was always a matter close to his heart.