61. I Won’t Allow You to Lay a Finger on Huang Er (Third Update, 11,000 Words—Please Vote for the Monthly Ticket)

Flying Eagle was considered the most outstanding youth of the Golden-Winged Roc clan in nearly a century. He and Ying Luan had been childhood sweethearts, and the Eagle King had long regarded him as a son-in-law in all but name.

As I spoke, I infused the Hell Envoy with a surge of energy, instantly restoring his spiritual power.

What’s more, with the formidable Earthfire Demon clan and the experts of the Evil Cloud Sect eyeing them hungrily from the sidelines, everyone found themselves beset on all sides, as if trapped in a deadly predicament.

It wasn’t hard to deduce what had happened—it must have been an ability much like a barrier. When Lin Feng made contact with him, they were drawn into this place together with that barrier. Though the exact nature of this place remained unclear, one could hazard a guess as to its purpose.

Yet, Xiao Feng had not truly perished. Wisps of the Law of Death swirled about, forming a new corporeal body for him—one wholly condensed from the Law of Death, radiating its boundless, overwhelming power.

This was an absolute treasure! Just like that Sunbird bronze vessel I possessed, it must have been unearthed by chance, passed through several hands, and eventually purchased in Tokyo by Naoki Sakamoto.

A few seconds later, General Lei reported to the leader, “Respected Leader, all twelve missiles have been launched.”

Zhao Mu, meanwhile, paid no heed to his brother’s protests—he was singing at the top of his lungs, thoroughly enjoying himself, and showed no sign of stopping.

The Gu brothers followed the soldiers toward the demon army camp. Watching them leave, Xu Feng couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment.

Wei Jie planned to use the slope to slow the Jingzhou army’s advance and inflict as many casualties as possible on their heavy infantry. He handed the Northern Army cavalry back to Pang Yun and, taking the assault battalion, hurried ahead to the slope.

“Yes, young master. Our rations are sufficient, so we should give the food to our brothers,” she insisted, believing the provisions ought to go to their comrades—how else could they withstand their enemies?

Wei Jie found himself utterly baffled. For a mere Liu Lao Zhi, if Xie An truly wished to eliminate him, there would be no need for such elaborate schemes. Why, then, did Xie An repeatedly turn the tables in such a manner? What was his true purpose?

At the crowd’s urging, White Butterfly finally began playing the background music on the computer.

But after her excitement faded, she became aware of something pressing against her below, an odd discomfort. Instinctively, she reached out her right hand to push it away.

Though he had previously wielded the power of the Heroic God, with the fourth awakening, his spiritual strength had soared dramatically. Yet it still felt mismatched with the Heroic God’s true form. He had to adapt quickly if he hoped to stabilize his power and unleash its greatest potential.

Tang Yi, as always, combined threats and incentives—coercion and persuasion, inseparable as ever.

At his words, Fat Dragon and I scrambled out of bed, pressing against the window to peer anxiously across the street. I clutched the phone tightly, staring wide-eyed at Fat Dragon, who returned my gaze just as tensely. For a moment, neither of us could speak.

Li Quan returned to his senses and looked up to see that Luo Bin was already stark naked, save for a final scrap of clothing.

Yet just as he was about to swallow it, that thumb-sized dragon’s whip suddenly erupted with a most peculiar energy.

“Pipa, thank you.” Han Zeng knew there was little he could say to Huo Chengjun, yet he feared she would be troubled by her family’s affairs. For Pipa to step in now—he was truly grateful.

Zhang Yan said, “It wasn’t as difficult as expected. At dawn, we’ll bring more men; I’m sure we’ll reach the top of the fortress mountain.” Zhang Yan understood that morale must be maintained at all costs. If even the commander uttered discouraging words, the soldiers’ spirits would collapse.

Yang Jin’s heart skipped a beat, her slender fingertips digging into her palm. Only after a long pause did she manage to utter a single sentence.

“Beggar Sect? Is that really a gang of beggars?” Lin Yin mused. “The world is full of wonders—who’d have thought even beggars would form a guild.” She recalled that when Great Forest Temple had clashed with Ren Cheng, one of their opponents was from the Beggar Sect—an ‘elder’ who, truth be told, didn’t look very old at all.

Liu Bingyi watched Huo Xian’s flustered figure recede into the distance, a bitter smile on his lips. “Returning to an old place alone once again. This time, if we are to meet again, it will only be a hundred years hence…” Every memory remained crystal clear, yet the person was nowhere to be found. How could he not be sorrowful?

His lips regained their dominance, easily parting hers. His nimble tongue swept through her mouth, drawing a soft moan from Yang Jin’s throat.

“Mother, why isn’t Father home yet?” A child’s innocent voice, laced with the heavy scent of osmanthus blossoms, drifted softly through the air.

“My friend’s name was Ren Cheng—he passed away seven or eight years ago, at the age of twenty-seven or twenty-eight.” Lin Yin concealed nothing.

Gao Xianzhi stepped to the corpse of Feng Changqing and said to the trembling Bian Lingcheng, “Proceed.” The executioner at his side raised his blade and brought it down.

The Khwarazmians were immediately roused, each eager for action. With Pu Xiu’s army ready, Jiang Wei ordered the twenty thousand able-bodied men to follow.

But now, what’s done is done. Apart from her anger, she had no means to change anything.

“Brothers, tear it apart! If anyone tries to stop us, beat them to a pulp!” Peng Jiabao led his men, howling as they charged into the Xue clan’s estate.