Chapter Seventy-Eight: Surely Reconciled

Just as Mingshuang was vomiting with passion, Lin He strolled leisurely to the spot behind her little master uncle.

The guards at the mansion gate were hurriedly calling for servants to clean up the small patches of filth on the ground, and some were asking Mingshuang if she needed a doctor.

Lin He cast a smiling glance at Mingshuang, who was still retching sour bile, then looked surprised as she spoke to the little master uncle, “Ah, it seems Ling Xiaozhi isn’t too keen on seeing you. You see, you’ve made her sick to the point of vomiting.”

Mingshuang, supporting herself on the doorframe and bent over, had only just recovered a bit before she heard Lin He’s remark. She hurried to explain, “I didn’t—” but her breath caught too quickly, and another wave of nausea overtook her. She truly had a mouth for nothing, unable to get a word in.

The servants who rushed over quickly began cleaning up.

Qin Ze blinked, completely at a loss as to what was happening. Why did Qu Man seem a little different today?

He did it on purpose. Though it appeared to be showing off, in truth it was meant to motivate these underperforming students, urging them to strive harder and aim to improve their class privileges next week.

But that was just for those people. As for Liu Chuan and his companion, they got into the Bentley Continental that Qin Ze had driven over.

After storing the finished Lightning Talisman, Su Twelve simply regulated his breathing for a few hours before continuing to craft more.

However, the abilities that could replace the Awakening Stones were tightly guarded secrets, known only to the high ranks of the Anti-Xia Alliance.

No one was a fool. Having also participated in the slaughter battleground, how could he not understand the hidden rules?

Zhong Li pretended to listen intently to the man’s ramblings, and before long, they entered the heart of the stronghold.

After all, there was King Lu, who claimed to be here for disaster relief yet hadn’t produced a single grain of rice, and the Emperor, who never once mentioned the calamity—neither seemed reliable.

From Ning Yu’s perspective, they simply appeared baffling and inexplicably strange.

However, if frequent nightmares weren’t caused by severe exhaustion, the inability to find a cause only made things more troubling.

Zhang Nianzu extended his right index finger, feeling along the iron rod. Gripping it tightly, he suddenly pressed down with force, and the iron rod snapped cleanly in two.

It had been some time since anyone had seen Erina Nakiri, who closely resembled a character from Food Wars, and she was sorely missed.

“Hu Hao is audacious beyond measure—an ordinary son, yet he dares to publicly send such a telegram. I’ve said all along that Jiang Kai should deal with Hu Hao. Now Hu Hao’s forces must be thin inside; if Jiang Kai’s troops act, they could even capture Latter City!” Chen Hai shouted furiously.

“Minister, isn’t this breaking protocol?” Gong Sha impatiently said once the two had walked away.

Tang Long and Li San were the first to inspect the scene. The main door was locked, and inside, aside from the overwhelming stench, there were only a few wooden stools, a table, and a decaying corpse.

The gatekeeper took out the five hundred yuan he’d just received as a bribe from his pocket and handed it to the middle-aged man, saying, “Director Wang, I’m truly sorry, both of my teachers are absent, so this…” As he spoke the last two words, he reluctantly handed the money to the man addressed as Director Wang.

The twenty or thirty members of the Lin family, who had been drinking tea and discussing farm matters in the courtyard, rose at the commotion and came to investigate.

“He looks like a man! Wears a suit! And his one eye emits a red light!” Wu Qitian pondered for a moment before speaking.

Li Jingjing’s face was full of uncertainty. Her soul was not fully healed, many memories remained hazy, and Lin Qinghou had grown up.

Previously, when Lin Yunfeng was a foreman, he had seven trusted aides, all honest and reliable men, with three or four of them belonging to the Lin family.

“Alright, Master, if you want me to go to bed, I’ll go to bed.” Sikong Jing showed not a hint of hesitation. Hearing Lin Feng’s instruction, she immediately turned and left, giving the impression of utmost obedience.

That was what she said, but Shen Qielan knew it was because she had praised Xi Fuwei, and this was a reminder that no matter how good Xi Fuwei was, her status was what it was—at best she could be a concubine, never formally married.