Chapter 96: Emperor Cang's Remonstrance

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“Hm?”
Grand Shaman Hou Tu and the other eleven Grand Shamans were startled. Hou Tu’s color drained as he said, “Could there really still be such a person?”
Emperor Cang nodded. “As Hou Tu said, when the Four Sages entered Chaos, we had considered that there might be other Way-Seekers. But in truth, we did not take it seriously enough. We leaned toward believing Hongjun was alone on the enemy side. Even if Hongjun was the stronger one, there was still a real chance of victory with the Four Sages facing him.”
“By the way, Ermao, Brother Kun says he’ll be returning from his reassignment soon.” Fat Liu suddenly blurted out, without any lead-up.
There is no feast beneath heaven that never ends. While still young, shouldn’t one truly live through a love? To grow old and die without regret? One need not demand eternity; it is enough simply to have loved once. Is everlasting love only a beautiful romantic legend of the wandering world? If one can win a single heart and never part until hair turns white, then is that not love without remorse, truly everlasting?
“I have no family. My only grandfather passed away before my eyes. Do you understand that helpless grief?” Xiaoyu said softly, and his voice was filled with endless sorrow.
Hearing these words, the steward understood Jiu Huang’s meaning at once. He said nothing more than a brief farewell to him, then hurried to prepare a carriage for Jiu Huang’s audience at the palace.
How could he, of all people, greet Bas—his rival for the throne—as a sworn brother? And yet he had to follow Bas in that role, performing deference and fraternity, because he needed to keep his father-khan from suspecting anything.
The city gates had fallen, the people suffered, and he had come within a whisker of being annihilated with his whole army in Batu’s hands. He never expected Zhao Xuan to withhold blame and instead comfort him.
“Never in my life did I think there would be a day when we could battle the Patriarch of the Hidden God Sect!” Meihun, another guardian of the Shadow Hall, said.
Luo Qianhan had no choice but to slip in secretly and investigate, especially Heavenly Saint Mountain, but at this moment infiltrating it was still difficult for him.
By then, Bare Head was at a loss as well. When he looked again, Gao Hu’s corpse still lay beneath the old banquet table. Though Gao Hu was hot-tempered, he had actually been good to Bare Head in his own way—a debt of kindness remembered for a thousand years. Which path should Bare Head now take?
In the mottled corridor, the light kept flickering, while Li Nan and three other men were all confined in prison.

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“What happened to your leg?” Li Qiang said, and reached to slap Rabbit’s leg, but Rabbit lifted his hand and warded it off.
Slowly, the expressions on Old Liu and Boss Qian became more vivid and layered: from initial contempt to solemnity, then surprise, and finally sheer stunned shock.
Huzi found this question hard to answer. He and Old Zhao were, by nature, alike—both men forever living amid calculations. But Huzi had his own pride: he was not as practical as Old Zhao.
“Don’t be impatient. I’ll tell you one by one.” Song Yao slipped on her nightgown and sat on the bed’s edge. She looked at the broad-shouldered young man before her, and her thoughts nearly drifted away again.
Earlier, the reason he had questioned Qin Tian several times was not selfish motive but disbelief that anyone in the Muli Clan could harm the High Priest. Clearly, he was wrong; Qin Tian had been the one in the right.
Now she carried a deep burden in her heart. Whether it was fighting for herself or helping someone else fight, it no longer truly occupied her mind.
Qingfeng sat in a chair, waiting for the Fire-Demon Sound to arrive, and began to steady his inner unease.
The old Ye Zhi-Chen, once hard as stone, once with only a faint, almost absent-minded smile, once unshaken in crisis—none of that remained.
In the slightly dark room, Wuyue removed the silver needles from Li Qingmu’s body one by one, then set them back on a red cloth on the side table.
When Huzi spoke, Scar-Face understood him at once and nodded. He stepped out and went straight to Gunzi. As soon as Huzi laid out his request, Gunzi frowned and thought for a while.
Li Yin was still a minor; his annual stipend was only one or two thousand strings, barely enough to live on, and he often had to rely on Consort Yang’s help.
Had that old fellow not suddenly come out, Bashan Qiongquyu—something that should have been his—would have been thrown away for nothing. He almost wanted to swallow Zhao Changqing whole.
In June, Li Ke summoned the steward who had once overseen roadwork in the Workshop Quarter: “I’m planning to build a road from the Workshop Quarter to Chang’an, four lanes wide, with auxiliary roads a total of ten meters.”

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For Li Ke, everything was only just beginning; fortunately, he had his own foundation and was not left utterly penniless.
Li Luo muttered to himself, “I suppose I overthought it. How could a police dog ever become a stray?”
Chen Chuan pressed the button labeled “switch,” and at once a beep sounded; the watch quivered slightly, then countless rays shot out and interwove in the void about a centimeter from the dial, forming a luminous screen.
The old grandmother nodded, whether she understood or not; she simply carried the ingredients into the kitchen.
In the eyes of the Ao family, this was “fairness”: if the Ao family lost, they paid nothing. If the Chen family lost, Chen Ying would have to marry Ao Fang.
With one rumor, news that He Shi had fallen into disgrace spread everywhere. Yet He Shi, the would-be protagonist, did not yet know anything had happened and was still bent over the script.
Though Ye Fan could not make out what those card-ring marks were, they were surely among the most precious treasures of the sister elders.
By the time he had traveled from the Wild Mountain Domain to the Myriad Swords Domain, he had already slain no fewer than a hundred men along the way. The treasures he had looted were in the hundreds; sold off, they amounted to nearly a few billion spirit-stones.
Zhao Sheng laid a hand and listened, and gradually he heard an especially strange voice: “The Way of Heaven takes from abundance and makes up for lack…” The divine sound rang like a bell, far and immense, severe and hard to parse—its meaning utterly beyond him.