Chapter 116: This Is My Oath of Allegiance to You (5)

On the way back to the Zhou family’s house. Wen Ni stole a glance at the man beside her. “Was that your doing?” Zhou Jingyi didn’t look at Wen Ni. His gaze dropped slightly, as if the dazzling lights gliding past on either side of the road cast fleeting shadows across his face. Amidst the intoxication and splendor, Zhou Jingyi remained calm and self-possessed, like a meditative monk untouched by the world’s excesses. When she didn’t hear a response from Zhou Jingyi, Wen Ni pouted in dissatisfaction.

As they passed by a plaza, the fountains sprang to life. Wen Ni pressed herself against the car window to watch. The Pilgrim’s Covenant arrived as promised, but before that, Jiang Chang’an had a lifelong wish to fulfill. The wooden figure showed almost no sign of damage; clearly, the storm attack unleashed by Qiu Shan Changming had left it unscathed.

Her vision had long since blurred. It was said that when pain reached a certain intensity, it became impossible to distinguish between cutting, cold, or burning heat. “Yes, yes, I have always held your esteemed organization in the highest regard.” Magpie’s smile grew ever more sincere and friendly, as if every word he spoke were the absolute truth, so full of conviction.

After all, this was an ordinary day—not some fantastical world of monsters and magic. Whether or not there was a system didn’t matter; safety was all that counted.

The entire spirit-testing stone radiated an intense, blinding gold. The color was so pure and flawless that in comparison, even the sun overhead seemed pale and diminished.

“So what if lives are at stake? It’s not as if we’re the ones dying,” Jade Linglong remarked indifferently.

Two quarters of an hour later, when Madam Zhao emerged from the Liyun Courtyard, her face was dark as a storm, as if the air around her could drip with water.

Shen Yang hesitated. Lin Chuyi’s opening words referenced all of Beijing, clearly indicating an appetite for more, while Shen’s previous budget was obviously not enough.

“And then? How will you wrap this up? Use a Forgetfulness Charm?” In the diary, Riddle sat on another single sofa—he had already mastered the use of his great wings, and whether walking, sitting, or reclining, he could always arrange them in the most comfortable position.

Du Jiahao, having somehow found a long wooden stick, slung it over his shoulder, fixed the bereaved relatives with a glare, and barked, “You two, what are you doing over there? Hurry up and get over here!” Alarmed, the pair scrambled over to Du Jiahao’s feet, kneeling in line with two burly men as decorum demanded.

If Luo Zhen had known what this fool was thinking, she would surely have pinched his waist through her sleeve a few more times. But at that moment, her beautiful eyes were busy surveying the nearby shops.

Thus, in the harem, the only one currently enjoying the honor of a consort’s rank was Consort An, who had borne the emperor’s third son—Liu Wu.

He glanced back at her. In the backlight, his features were cast in a dazzling glow—handsome and refined, his lips pressed tightly together, perhaps in an effort to contain his emotions. Yet that restraint only added to their allure, making them irresistibly tempting.

The mountain paths were rugged and difficult to traverse, especially arduous as one climbed higher. The dyers’ workshops were scattered rather than clustered; once you finished climbing up, you had to descend again, making the journey doubly exhausting.

“What is it? Speak slowly,” Wei Zhongxian’s tone was surprisingly gentle, yet Wang Tiqian could sense the dissatisfaction and anxiety lurking beneath his words.

Despite the retainers’ repeated denials of any involvement in the siege, whether to guard against contingencies or out of greed for their wealth, the Songshang family’s blade still fell upon them. At last, these retainers of the Xinjin family began to fight back.

Suddenly, she shifted tactics—both hands moved in unison, sending another flurry of Frosted Iceneedles whistling through the air toward them.

“Ninth Prince, what brings you here at this hour? Has the Princess’s illness taken a turn for the worse?” Luo Zhen, though she knew it unlikely, could not imagine what else would bring the esteemed Ninth Prince to call at this time.

“And you—who are you? Why are you with her? Why hasn’t Nanny Gao spoken?” Clearly, those inside were on high alert, questioning from behind the door but making no move to open it.

Xiao Han was entirely in spectator mode now, pouring himself a glass of red wine, taking a slow sip, and then setting it aside as though watching a play unfold before him.