Chapter 42: My Rules Are the Rules

The blades’ auras clashed violently, their terrifying force nearly shattering the dried-up well. The commotion was so great that it was enough to alarm both Blackwood and Yin Tianxue.

Chen Yang’s heart tightened with shock; never in his wildest dreams had he expected that, in just a few short days, the Demon Blade Muramasa’s strength would have grown to such a fearsome extent. Unless he broke into the Foundation Establishment stage, Chen Yang wasn’t even sure he could defeat it.

This demon... But isn't it actually his master, Su Xiaose? If he appeared so suddenly, wouldn’t that expose his own identity?

Ni Jianghong wasted no words, brandishing his blade and charging straight at Ling Yu. With a casual sweep of Ling Yu’s hand, a flash of golden light shot toward Ni Jianghong, who, startled, hurriedly raised his weapon to block. With a muffled thud, the shock forced him back several steps, and before he could recover, he saw not one but two more arcs of blade light flying at him.

“Maybe the craftsman was simply careless and removed it by mistake back then,” Uncle Fu interjected. Tang Yi nodded in agreement, “That’s possible!” I retorted sharply, “Absolutely impossible!” Uncle Fu snorted coldly and said nothing further.

No matter who answered on the other end, Song Duanwu was in no mood to listen to the cacophony erupting from the phone. Hanging up, he returned to the clinic. Staring at that entire bucket of absorbent cotton soaked through with Li Jinghong’s fresh blood, he muttered something to himself—a single sentence that sent a chill straight into the doctor’s heart.

Inside Ling Yu’s tent, Ling Haidong, Zhao Dashan and his family, Zhu Xingyun and his sister, Zhang Chenglie, Lei Mingqian, Gao Yuting, Tong Yue, and others were seated. The captives Wei De, An Kun, and Mu Qiong also listened in from the side.

Li Jinghong rolled his eyes, nearly choking on his own saliva. He knew the tricks he used against deadbeats would never work on Third Brother. So, summoning his patience, he asked in a seemingly impatient tone, “So, Third Brother, you really don’t know?” Song Duanwu, the rascal, actually changed his usual choice of words.

He was seething with anger inside, feeling that Old Master Yin was utterly out of his mind—at his age, had he still not learned to curb his temper?

“I have no idea,” the patrolman replied, casting a suspicious glance over the two of them. Judging by their bearing, he didn’t think they were criminals, so he simply hefted his baton and walked away.

Ling Yu was weighed down by troubles. Together with his disciples, he hurried back and forth, carrying out one massive rosewood table after another from the dining hall and placing them securely under the lights. The disciples had already brought out jars and jars of fine wine, setting one on each table.

In a shadowy corner of the third floor, Mo Ye found another teleportation array. After a bout of dizziness, Mo Ye found herself transported before an enormous metal round door. All around was utter blackness, not a trace of light.

“What? Beg for mercy on my knees? Never!” Hailong bellowed in rage. In front of so many people, if he knelt and begged, all his honor would be lost. He’d never again be able to hold his head high on the battlefield of the Absolute Domain. And even if he one day became a supreme powerhouse, this would remain a stain on his name he could never wash away.

Xiao Nantian swayed unsteadily, his face dark. How could he not catch the implication in Mu Wanqing’s words? For now, things would pause here, but it meant the matter was far from over—Mu Wanqing could use this against him at any time.

The morning dew condensed on the veins of leaves, crystal clear and brimming with moisture, as the chilly frost of misty dawn gave way to the gentle warmth of a spring breeze.

A foot nudged Helian Jinchen’s face, turning it so his expression could be clearly seen.

By now, dusk had fallen, and even straining his eyes, Yuan Fouji could not make out the burly man’s features. He could only vaguely discern a brocade robe draped over the figure and what seemed to be a pheasant feather stuck in his hair.

It’s true that patients suffering from both qi and blood deficiency should not be given tonics, but a single old mountain ginseng is hardly enough to be fatal.

If it came to causing trouble, Tong Yue was far less reckless than himself. At least she showed restraint, whereas once he made a move, it was always life and death.