Chapter 270: Devil Coach

"Then we must redouble our preparations!" Sun Yang said with a trace of anxiety. Though his words usually carried a casual levity, the recent clash had forced him to realize that the insectoid onslaught was far from simple.

Li Chang'an walked to the window, his gaze drifting toward the distant horizon as he fell into brief reflection.

"Listen up, everyone!" He turned around, his tone hardening with gravity.

"What we must do next is not only maintain our physical strength and combat readiness, but also remain constantly prepared for any sudden contingencies."

Upon entering the house, Zhou Sanxi inquired briefly about Li Fangcao's well-being before beginning to introduce the members of their youth commune. Zhu Wangzong, Zhang Meixiang, Zhou Sanxi, and she were all natives of the provincial capital of Chu, while the others hailed from various corners of the land.

Where others raised the bids by a mere hundred thousand at a time, she escalated the stakes by millions, or even tens of millions.

"Can we eat this too? Aren't these all medicines? We aren't sick, so how can we take them?" Xiao Jiu'er asked.

With that in mind, I told Song Hui that although I could not assist him at the moment, I hoped he could introduce me to the venerable monk so I could inquire about the specifics on his behalf.

Having finished the flatbread, Wu Song simply took his brother's hand and led him out of the mountains, casting his precept blade aside and abandoning all thought of returning to Liangshan.

Xiao Ning raised his head, his gaze reverting to its customary detachment. He cast a fleeting glance at Su Jinxiu and Xiao Jiu'er, then rolled his eyes and casually turned his face away.

Meng Ren merely spared it a glance before averting his eyes, his countenance placid and devoid of any real trace of emotion.

It was only after we left the hospital and boarded the vehicle, as it rolled steadily toward Jiutang Town, that my racing heart finally began to settle, allowing me to recount the hospital encounter to Liu Jingchen.

The moment the blow struck his forehead, the man in the suit shuddered violently; then, his eyes rolled back, and he slipped into utter unconsciousness.

It was a truth known to all that although the Grand Emperor had abdicated, he still held a firm, unseen grasp on the affairs of state, forcing even the Qianyuan Emperor to act in deferential accordance with his wishes.

At this thought, Yan Yue fell into a prolonged daze. If war broke out between the two nations, what a harrowing spectacle it would be—fields carpeted with corpses and rivers flowing with blood. If that came to pass, she would truly become a sinner for the ages. Yet, what manner of twisted soul possessed such malice as to orchestrate a conflict between two peoples? Such a person was someone Yan Yue would never tolerate.

"My only wife is the Empress," Murong Yan's voice grew even colder, his gaze carrying a hint of disdain as it fell upon Bi Chenggong. To speak of the Prince of Shang's wife—did Bi Chenggong dare presume himself the consort of an emperor? Even at a time like this, was he still scheming to return to the imperial harem?

A fortnight later, Qingyun ceased his seclusion and emerged from the artifact's spatial domain following the method prescribed by his master. Upon stepping outside, he was struck by an profound stillness within the sect, and the throngs of people seemed greatly diminished. Just as he set out to find his master, he discovered Daoist Master Meng already waiting for him in the courtyard.

"You desire cultivation, power, and freedom all at once—there are simply too many things you cannot let go of, are there not?" The Daoist priest offered a bitter smile and shook his head.

He stood frozen, entirely lost in his thoughts. "I am truly wretched," he muttered in a low, delirious whisper. "My lady is so considerate and good to me. How could I harbor such doubts about her?" Shaking his head in deep self-reproach, he began to unfasten his robes to bathe when his long, slender fingers were suddenly caught by something hard against his skin.

Moments later, the Xuanyuan Demonic Sword, which had initially come to rest at the feet of the purple-robed sovereign, rent the air as it flew toward the great river, seeking to plunge into its waters. Yet to its misfortune, the river shuddered, and an obstructing force suddenly swelled up, holding the Xuanyuan Demonic Sword firmly at bay.

"Your Majesty, I come today to bid Your Majesty farewell. Fortune has not fated us to walk together; please allow me to resign from my post as Imperial Tutor and return to my native village." As Bi Chenggong finished speaking, his forehead struck the ground with a heavy thud. Across from him, Murong Yan's hand trembled, causing a globule of ink to splash onto the desk, forming a dark circle that began to spread, inch by inch.

"Your Majesty, even the imperial physicians are uncertain; perhaps it is best not to use this prescription," the Prime Minister advised, stepping forward after consolidating the opinions of the physicians and the royal retinue. Yan Yue’s fervent heart began to waver; with so many voices raised in opposition, would Ling Yuechen still place his trust in her?