Volume One, Chapter Fifty: The Fu Family—You Were the First to Cross the Line

Brass ran his hand along her waist, feeling the softness beneath his fingers, and his smile grew increasingly lecherous.
"Yao Yao, when you return, you won’t forget about me, will you?"
Wang Yaoyao forced a faint smile. "How could I? You’re my great benefactor. If not for you, I’d never have had the chance to leave this place. Don’t worry, I promise I’ll get you out of here."
Brass stroked her cheek. "Yao Yao, as long as you know."
Jiang Guopan didn’t much care for him either, but for the sake of business, he managed to be civil.
Lin Hao was beginning to suspect something. On a hunch, he tossed the blood crystal in his hand into the system space. Instantly, the glowing blood crystal ceased all activity. Lin Hao’s eyes lit up—so the system space could isolate that black pillar of light. No, to be precise, it could sever the pull of that severed hand.
"So the marquis means that His Highness the Crown Prince acted on impulse, made a foolish mistake?" Qingli asked from the side.
Watching the sea of bloody creatures disappear before him, Yuan Yufei felt a spark of inspiration. Once killed, these beings dissolved into a mist of blood, within which surged a wild, dark power—bloodthirsty and chilling. Yet, this power was also terrifyingly strong, so much so that it made one’s heart tremble.
Soon after, a flurry of figures, just as they had outside the palace, established a defensive formation in the span of only a dozen breaths.
Back then, it must have been Yue Yang who lunged first, and she, unable to resist the temptation, was drawn in.
"Greetings, Uncle Ming!" Qu Youyou was quick to adapt; hearing Ming Li introduce himself, she immediately saluted him as a junior ought.
After half a month learning from Sun Deyou, Han Xiao was already looking the part, though compared to Sun Deyou, he still lacked a certain finesse.
Of course, he couldn’t just sit and wait for doom. Though he could easily break free from the spiritual cords binding him, now was clearly not the right moment to act.
However, Han Sanmei herself seemed unable to move, leaving the vital task of cooking to her eldest sister.
County seat of Lin’an. The western city gate was heavily guarded: Japanese military police in full gear, Imperial Collaboration Army guards, and detective squads kept a tight watch over every entrance and the area around the gatehouse.
"Ignatius Woods—is he famous?" Fang Li looked at Allen in confusion. Allen slowly shook his head; he hadn’t heard the name before either.
"How are Ziheng and Lan’er? Where are they? Could they have been taken by those men in black…" Out of breath, Yinling spoke in distress, blaming herself for not thinking of them sooner. She immediately scanned her surroundings, ready to set out in search of them.
If she reverted to her true form, these dwarves without long-range weapons would be no match for her. Even if their numbers doubled, Lunna wouldn’t be concerned. But before such a crowd, she couldn’t simply transform into a dragon on the spot—that would be mortifying.
Yun Ling let Lin Junxiong and the others into his room, turned on the computer, connected to the internet, and with trembling fingers, typed in the name Fu Yan.
Lin Tian shook his head and smiled bitterly, sighing as he recounted everything from running into Zhang Banxian on his way down the mountain to what happened after returning to the sect. Of course, he glossed over some details, mixing truth with fiction. In the end, the conversation naturally shifted to Yan Shuangdao, Zhou Jishan, and the others.
"Captain Nakagawa, welcome to Lin’an County. Let me offer you a toast." To everyone else, he barely spared a glance.
After exchanging pleasantries, Tian Yan returned to his valley, while Yinling continued on toward Tiandang Mountain. This time, she chose to fly by sword—not wanting further delays due to unforeseen events on the road, and also anxious to see her master Xuan Yuan Yu as soon as possible, to ensure he was safe.
As a swordsman cultivating the Way, he longed intensely to shine as a blade—razor-sharp and proud—not to remain hidden in the scabbard, losing his edge and wasting away.