Chapter Eighty-Six: Xia Ling’s Love Letter

Xia Ling was as excited as Ye Feng had been when he received Xia Ling’s first kiss. Ye Feng wasn’t particularly fazed—he couldn’t let her win every round all night, or else Xia Ling would soon stop playing with him. “You’re so happy just because of a single Heart-Cleansing Mantra. If only you could be this happy for me,” Ye Feng said lightly. Xia Ling quieted down at once. “Impossible, not in this lifetime. You took my…”

Shunping, though worried about the two of them, could only agree and leave. Before he departed, he gave the crowd nearby a look, signaling everyone to withdraw.

Seeing this, Jing Dongnan hurriedly said to Han Yunlin, “Uncle, this is Qin Huan and Chengjue’s son.”

Yi Zhi Kuo knew that the Northern Desert troops could attack Ling Dongwu’s Nanzhao soldiers at any time. He kept a watchful eye from the sidelines, waiting for an opportunity to snatch Ling Dongwu away—or perhaps to rescue her.

Jiang Meixue slammed her CD lipstick onto the table. Yin Qiao raised her chin defiantly, clearly unwilling to yield, and came over.

Ling Siye’s bare, refined upper body lay prone on the couch, buried in the brocade covers, his face obscured, showing no discernible emotion. The scars on his back were faded, though a few still remained scabbed and raw.

Ye Rongxin, weeping, said, “It was Aunt Fu who insisted that Brother Chengjue take me out to play. Brother Chengjue wasn’t happy about it at all. Tongcheng gave me the cold shoulder, barely acknowledged me. I really tried to make everyone a little happier, but… Sister Qin Huan, I’m sorry, truly sorry.”

She thought her messages had been intercepted halfway, never reaching Liuguang, and that was why Liuguang ignored her. But how could she have imagined that the person she desperately sought for rescue was the very one who would push her and her family to ruin?

“This isn’t her fault—I asked for secrecy beforehand,” Ye Chen stepped in to shield her, taking all the blame upon himself.

The sun crept toward its zenith, its rays so dazzling that one could hardly keep their eyes open. Luo Xuan gently lowered his eyelids.

“The Ghost Sect has guests—aren’t you going back to greet them?” Granny Meng asked anxiously, fearing she’d lose track again if she delayed any longer.

The three students and Dazna immediately crouched at her words, but the shadow carrying immense kinetic energy didn’t fly overhead.

His mind froze for a moment, recalling the cold words he’d spoken to Si Fengjing at the beginning, and the series of heartless remarks he’d made to that man at the city gate on their wedding day. So he’d understood her sincerity all along, never exposing it—was that it?

The Salt Depot’s guard knights, hardened by twenty years of savage combat, licking blood from their blades, had honed their senses to catch every nuance.

After all that had happened, this man had gradually moved into her heart. Such subtle influence was utterly irresistible.

Let it be, then. To understand the secrets of Space-Time Ninjutsu as fully as possible, he had to try. Whether Jue’s internal documents would help him was uncertain, but there was no way to know without trying.

Once her stomach settled, Yu Weiyan began to try making baby things, learning to sew clothes from Cuihong.

Jing Yue glared angrily toward the palace gate, arms crossed, kicking the blue bricks at her feet in frustration.

Wang Miaomiao left the private room, still unable to find her way out. Luckily, a KTV staff member passed by, allowing her to locate the exit. She messaged her friend to let them know she’d gone ahead, and waited calmly at the KTV entrance for Gu Chenyan to arrive.

Stanley stared lifelessly at the cellmate before him. After their long separation, he’d hoped to drink and chat together, perhaps reminisce. But the other man, without a word, pulled out an M60 and unleashed a hail of bullets, riddling him like a sieve.

Their master had come for them, rushing from North Mansion City to Tianjian City in such a short time—not for Chen Jingzhi.