Chapter Forty-Six: Pretending

At this moment, the entire arena was abuzz with speculations—what on earth was going on with Zhao Yuan today? Why was he in such a state? No one could make sense of it. The outcome of this match was certainly not what anyone had anticipated. The contest dragged on until the very end without a victor emerging. When the final moment arrived, even the referees were at a loss for words. Yet, the situation was as it was, and with no clear winner, they too were unsure of what to do next.

After a brief conference, the referees finally reached a conclusion: the allotted time for this match had run out. One of them stepped forward and announced, “I now declare this match…”

Meanwhile, Su Xinghe’s father hurried back from Qinzhou City, but did he truly only worry about his own health, or was it because of that marriage promise he had made? Or perhaps it was both. The more one thought about it, the heavier the sense of disappointment became.

Though by seniority she was the mother-in-law, she was, after all, only a concubine. The title of First Daughter-in-law was reserved for the one who had been bestowed the Yin token by the head of the family—a mark that could not be contested.

Chen Liang, though inwardly unconvinced, could not disregard Su Qing's words. Reluctantly, he sheathed his sword and stepped back to stand by Su Qing’s side.

Li Yunxiang hurried over, helping me sit up and tucking in my quilt. Instinctively, I shifted away from his touch. He paused, a look of confusion on his face, then sat back down on the chair. My actions clearly signaled the growing distance between us, and I suspected he felt much the same.

If one focused, one could even sense the very fabric of this world trembling, as if drawn by the vortex of emptiness swirling in the void.

With swift precision, the two of them pressed their daggers to the throats of the mercenaries before them, cutting without hesitation. Leaping over the bodies, their blades sank into the next target’s throat, and in one fluid motion, they rolled across the bed to the third mercenary, silencing him with a hand over his mouth and a fatal twist of the neck. Calmly, their deadly work continued.

Everyone knew that the moment “Dark Night” stopped, they risked being struck down by the mercenaries behind them. Yet, he threw caution to the wind, giving Lao Dao the perfect opportunity to attack. All present took note of his sacrifice.

Zi Bingxin entered the apothecary, a room set aside for students to practice their craft. She selected a cauldron, chose several herbs, and settled into a quiet corner. Her expression was grave—this time, she intended to push her skills to the intermediate level.

Those who survived by sheer luck fled into the distance, staring in terror and awe at the monstrous being before them, rendered speechless by the sight.

When morning broke, sunlight streamed in. Zhao Xueru leaned weakly against Guan Bing, who looked utterly satisfied, a cigarette between his fingers and the other hand caressing Zhao Xueru’s curves, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

What truly drove them to despair was the arrival of more figures—one Supreme after another, converging from the rear.

Since Mu Yunfeng held no such intentions, it was time to help her choose a reliable husband, lest he worry endlessly.

Upon his return to the country, he thought he could leave behind his month in America with ease and detachment.

“They can’t have gone far. You head west, I’ll go east and pursue them!” Zhi Bai shouted, sprinting toward the east.

I had heard of Liao Kaihong’s character from Wu Qingyuan’s lips—a man who would never rest until his goals were achieved.

Did this man really need to be so conflicted? It was just semen—how could it so easily become a child?

While talking, the two of them ran into the cemetery and saw Ning Huayuan, whom they hadn’t seen in years, sitting before a grave, his head resting on the tombstone.

“The doctor has already examined her and said… there’s absolutely no chance of pregnancy,” Li Jin said, his voice heavy with sorrow.

Though government crackdowns on vice later brought some change, the mere mention of Anxian Street still brought its notorious reputation instantly to mind.

The image flashed through her mind again—her chasing after his car tonight—a tightness in her chest growing heavier.

“I warn you, do not call her Feifei again. Are you deaf? I didn’t call you out just now to see if you would take the hint and correct yourself, but you still haven’t learned. Do you really think you have any claim over Feifei?” Na Tie cut off Third Young Master’s words.