Chapter Seventy-Four: The Art of Sealing Treasures (Part One)

Fatty Zuo, Chang Yu, and even Sumeru Buddha were all struck with shock, instantly gathering before me and taking up a stance of confrontation. Seeing this, the Shepherd’s Lodge of the Northern Desert pressed their advantage, once again surrounding the Western Mule Gate. The people from Western Mule Gate were seething with fury, but now found themselves beset on both sides—within, by us; without, by the Shepherd’s Lodge.

In that moment, no one dared to make a move.

After a tense standoff, Liu Tiancai finally spoke.

“Vivi, I was just about to ask Night Moon to notify you, and right then I saw you coming together with Captain Luo.” Su Jiansheng, his brows tightly furrowed, led them toward the central house of the base, weaving through the tents scattered around.

“We must drink tonight,” Yu Sheng said with heartfelt pleasure, clinking glasses with Murong before draining his own. “This is the first meal my wife has ever cooked for me. We have to celebrate. Come, a toast to my wife!”

The very next moment—clang!—his head suffered yet another blow. He had no idea who had struck his barren forehead this time.

Yet for a man who had lived on in misery since the great rebellion of years past, death was never truly his desire. If anyone believed his cries for vengeance for Zhang Jiao, they could only be called naïve.

Along the way, I thought of many things. I resolved to cherish every moment I had with Zhang Xue. She was my first love, and I was determined to make our relationship ever more perfect.

Dong Zhuo was momentarily stunned when he saw, but soon realized what had happened. Those few troublemakers must have driven everyone else away after their misdeeds. With that, he strode inside.

A surge of anger—of betrayal and humiliation—instantly welled up in Fatty’s heart. Furious, he ignored the blades and spears behind him, shoved Xie Half-Ghost and Old Qian aside, swung his halberd, and with a sudden turn, swept ferociously toward the Tiger Guard Army.

Chen Hai feigned deep contemplation, stroked his chin, and said, “I think the shopkeeper Chen’s son isn’t bad. At least you know him, and his parents are so fond of you—they would never mean you harm, would they?” Beyond this, he truly couldn’t think of anyone better.

On his memorial to the throne, Li Mi recorded his work progress, detailing his investigations into the armies and deployments throughout Youzhou. He drafted a report to submit these findings, before proceeding step by step to examine governance in areas where Han and minority communities lived intermixed. The memorial focused mainly on military matters.

Meanwhile, a strange ripple surged forth, oscillating across the entirety of the Great Extinction Star Tower’s third level a hundred times in an instant. Nearly every eternal deity of the Third World was battered until their bodies collapsed, their divinity quaked, and their spirits lapsed into unconsciousness.

Without even resorting to his “Nuclear Light Cannon” or “Nuclear Power Fist,” but relying only on abilities like telekinetic palms and mental shields, Zheng Tai had nearly beaten the Sea Urchin King to death. Of course, much credit was due to the multi-turreted zombie robot, whose chest’s V-shaped beam was a formidable aid.

“No demon beast dares approach this road,” Hu Meier said, her face dark yet uncharacteristically anxious. “For us, it’s the best path. If we take a detour, we’ll definitely be attacked by other beasts. There’s really nothing for you to worry about on our behalf—no need to choose another route.”

The Dragon Kings of the Three Realms widened their eyes in disbelief. They could not comprehend how, with the power of merely the second world, a path could be forcibly carved through the third.

Even after establishing their capital at Heavenly Capital, the kings of the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom, led by Hong Xiuquan, had gradually learned to pursue pleasure. Yet in their bones, Hong Xiuquan and his followers never abandoned the spirit of equality they had always championed.

A flush of shyness briefly crossed the beautiful face of Jiwu Zhiyun—how long had it been since a man dared invite her so boldly to dinner?

This must have been concocted by Su Jin and the others, Xue Chongxun mused after a moment’s pause. He pondered how the “Black-Headed Duke” floated on the river—could piles have been driven in? To emerge from the river in the depths of winter was no small feat.