Chapter Ninety-Four: Acting Spoiled

Lu Yalan looked on with satisfaction as Zhao Dingsheng finally shut his foul mouth, and a sense of relief bloomed inside her. Only then did she speak: "You say you've come to apologize, but I see no sincerity in you. What, are you so certain I'll accept your apology?"

"When I ignore you, you threaten me! Do you really think I'm still that second Miss of the Lu family who silently endured your slander and the pain you inflicted, never daring to talk back, letting you spew filth wherever you pleased?"

"Why should I accept your apology just because you offer it? Why should an innocent, blameless person like myself be expected to forgive a pair of shameless adulterers like you? Do you even understand the harm you've caused me— you, Zhao Dingsheng, my former fiancé, and you, Lu Yazhu, my half-sister—when you colluded against me? The damage you did—"

"Didn't I just say it? A hero comes to the rescue of a beauty." Wang Lingyun repeated her reason. Although her explanation was far-fetched, the earnestness and solemnity on her face made the flimsy excuse seem almost justified.

These rules of power could also bring marvelous changes to the weapons being forged. Even with the same materials, different results might occur. It is said that a truly skilled forgemaster can elevate ordinary materials, crafting weapons that surpass their original grade.

Tian Dan was not mistaken. When they reached the not-so-high city wall, Mingyue saw that, though repairs had been made, the eastern side of the wall still bore many ruined sections. Some were scorched black—clear marks left by fiery stone projectiles.

He relayed the results of his diagnosis to the imperial physicians, who were all equally surprised and puzzled. When the other physicians who had also checked the pulse returned, they joined the discussion, which soon grew heated.

Qingyue did not hesitate and nodded at once. Just as she was about to ask what to use to draw blood, she felt a sharp pain in her chest and saw a single drop of blood, lustrous as jade, fly toward the green lotus.

She could still recall the day the general was struck by an arrow—his face ashen, drenched in sweat, lips a bluish purple. Yet he forced himself to keep going, breaking through the enemy encirclement. It was also that day the general's left hand was torn at the tiger’s mouth and never regained its strength, leaving him unable to draw his beloved great bow ever again.

Mist and rain gathered over the back mountain, dispelling the stifling heat and lending a sudden coolness to the season.

The reporters had gone mad, bombarding questions from all directions. Some even climbed onto the table, desperate enough to clutch Lin Fan's legs.

"An Yuan, the Marquis of Pingle." The title was hereditary, but the old marquis had more than one son; An Yuan had two elder brothers, both sons of his father’s concubines. The intrigue among them was self-evident," Nan Changqing paused here.

"I laugh at how you’ve managed to grow up with nothing but filth inside your head," Jiang Che said with a smile, though his gaze remained cold.

She watched the smile on Ye Yun’s face, unwilling to accept her words at face value, and studied her expression, trying to discern if her calm was genuine.

And this was only kneeling. If that fellow learned that Sikong Wu was already dead, surely he’d die of fright on the spot.

Yang Yujun looked at the young man before her, whose eyes held a hint of something strange. She found herself unable to voice her request for help.

As he spoke, Gu He’s face remained unchanged—neither discomfort nor happiness could be seen.

"True. When the time comes, I’ll go with you. I haven’t seen Teacher Shu in a long time—I miss her," Cui Yunyue nodded.

He, too, believed that with Qin Zheng’s steely character, it would be a waste for him to rot in the cutthroat, mercenary world of business. The battlefield, with its struggles and bloodshed, was where he belonged.

Kawashima Yuro, pinned helplessly to the side, listened as his son wailed with a pain that pierced the soul. His eyes turned blood-red, veins bulging as he roared in anguish.

Looking at the fallen members of the Ouyang family, Pei Qingyu let out a long breath and wiped the sweat from her brow. Only then did she turn to Xiao Chen, though her gaze held a trace of reproach.

Lately, Zhou Yiran had been acting strangely, too. In the past, he always came home with either a sword or a jug of wine, but these last few days, he brought nothing but two sticks of candied fruit.

A flash of white light merged into the King Li’s body. Cass’s face contorted in pain, her strength failing as she plummeted toward the ground. King Li, suffused with the white light, did not hurry to leave but instead accelerated his descent, caught up with the falling Cass, and pressed his palm to her chest wound. The glow of healing magic swiftly restored Cass’s injury.