Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Third Overlord of the Netherworld

My heart skipped a beat, and I was just about to ask him what was going on. But Fatty Zuo ignored Xumi Le, clutching several talismans in his hand, and turned to me, saying, “Hey, kid, you’re a good swimmer. Do me a favor—jump into the pool, put this talisman on her forehead, and make sure you don’t get it wet.” Only then did I realize that Fatty Zuo had thrown Dan Sanye into the water to save her.

Without hesitation, I took the talismans and dove in.

...

“Feng, I see you don’t have a storage ring yet. Take this one as a gift to mark your becoming my disciple.” Liu Siyun placed a red ring into Huang Feng’s palm.

The five members of the family ran home in one burst of energy, slamming the door shut behind them. It was simply too frightening—prank or not, tomorrow morning Zhao Laosi was determined to go to Granny Ma and ask for a peace amulet to carry with him.

Lark ran all the way to her boudoir. Wu Song followed but stopped at her door; no matter how forthright he was, he wouldn’t just walk into Jiang Menshen’s wife’s room without a care.

Grandson Bozhong flicked his sleeve, and, to my astonishment, his falling body halted mid-air. A surge of energy rushed up from his feet, and the two of them shot into the sky like meteors.

At that moment, he was less concerned with explaining his recent tardiness and more focused on how to ingratiate himself and turn the situation around, especially since this was someone close to the Emperor.

Once inside the dungeon, he removed his invisibility cloak and gestured for the imprisoned slaves to keep silent.

Zhusha understood immediately—they must have a sharp eye. His mind was on Duan Leng’s competition, so he stood up to take his leave.

“That’s right. The men under Censor Li Tan—the infamous Li the Mad Dog—don’t even bother to pretend anymore. They swagger around right in front of us every day,” Zhuzi said, his eyes glaring toward the courtyard gate, brimming with hatred.

On this foreign night, unexpectedly, Changfeng had arrived and was now on the great ship.

Unfortunately, Li Zhishi’s arrangements in the Ministry of War had exposed the plan; with outsiders as witnesses and the target not eliminated before Zhuanzhu appeared, the whole scheme fell apart.

At the top-floor suite of the Red Pavilion, the fierce battle had lasted from morning till afternoon. By the time Yan Jiaolong was done with Qu Xiaoyan, she was utterly spent—hoarse, weak, and completely drained of energy.

A man in a well-cut suit stood quietly, sunglasses on his face and lips pursed, as if waiting for someone.

Before parting, Du Fengbo asked for Yan Mu’s contact information, added her on WeChat and so on, then left, satisfied.

Fifteen minutes later, nearly everyone had chosen their auction items, and their bids had used up almost all the money they’d brought for the event.

The moment these two mighty forces clashed, an explosion erupted. The divine dragon wailed, the two towering columns of water shattered into countless streams, and the entire battlefield was shrouded in mist.

Liu Yu made use of the mountainous terrain to play cat-and-mouse. Once in the mountains, the forty thousand Ming troops couldn’t stay together—they had to split up. Liu Yu used the terrain to divide, encircle, and pick them off bit by bit, never facing Zuo Liangyu in a direct battle.

In fact, there wasn’t even a proper premiere at the time—just a simple ceremony. Compared to a grand production, it was a pitiful sight.

As the two of them played, the sky began to darken. Kiana and Hachijo Rin looked up, sensing two energies clashing overhead.

“You did well today. In the future, if any special visitors come to Ding Sheng to see Xiaoyan, you must notify me immediately,” He Xianming ordered coldly.

Lately, Qin Yu’s reputation had soared, so the two of them were quickly recognized by the staff, who made even more of an effort with their introductions. But it was clear neither of them paid much attention to what was being said.