Volume 1, Chapter 30: Is Your Ladyship Running a Fever?

It was another year for the winter hunt. Although the snow on the ground had yet to melt, the weather was exceptionally fine with the sun shining bright, and the officials of the Northern Qi court headed to the Shanglin Hunting Grounds to participate.

After all, if Meng Xinian were to hear him say such things, he would very likely beat him to death.

The Ghost Commander’s army searched Qinggu Town for a while longer. As it neared midday, the sharp sunlight became repulsive to the Ghost Clan, causing a certain degree of damage to their bodies.

The man surnamed Liu flicked three copper coins in succession with his middle, index, and ring fingers; they landed on three separate tables, spinning incessantly in the center of each.

While Zuo Ci was contemplating, a three-meter-long white-feathered flying dragon swept through the air. The dragon's wings whipped up a gale-force current as it landed before him. A knight in pure silver armor sat atop, holding the reins and looking down at Zuo Ci and his group.

"Heh, what use are many techniques if none are refined?" Qing Zhengyang withdrew his sword and reached out with an elegant, effortless grappling maneuver, intending to seize the young woman with superior skill. As long as he held the young master of the Shu family, the opposition would be forced to hold back, giving him a great chance to escape.

Under the fearful gazes of the Cihang Jingzhai disciples, Su Zimo was seen holding Yang Qingxuan’s slender hand, walking toward the "Seven-Fold Gate" with a gentle and warm expression. Gone was his previously overbearing aura; he looked for all the world like a kind father.

In the center of the stone chamber stood a chair with a withered skeleton seated upon it. The sunken skull had fallen onto the pallid thigh bone, lending an eerie atmosphere to the quiet space.

Chu Muhai and his few guards had not reached the level of light-body technique required to follow without being detected. The only one who could continue the pursuit was Qingfeng. He cast a glance at Qingfeng, who, without a word, secretly followed the blindfolded workers.

Xue Cheng thought for a moment, applied an invisibility talisman and a flight talisman to himself, opened the window, and leaped out. Jumping from the thirtieth floor, he flew toward the direction indicated by the control talisman.

Crispy and delicious, it was truly addictive; the captain finished an entire bag of potato chips in one go. Although the potato chips were slightly inferior to his turkey meat in both texture and efficacy—due to the raw materials, as the turkey was the meat of a Spirit-Transformation realm demonic beast and thus a Saint-grade ingredient, while the chips were merely Immortal-grade—they were still satisfying.

Although he knew his pregnant mother was deeply reluctant to let him go, he had his own goals. This parting was for the sake of a better reunion in the future. If he could not let go of these sentiments, he would be unable to achieve anything.

The carriage cover remained intact, and the soldiers beneath felt emboldened. Through the firing slits in the cover, heavy crossbows were aimed at the city walls. Suddenly, arrows flew like a swarm of locusts, whistling through the sky. Zhu Gaochi hurriedly ordered shields to be raised and urgently requested Consort Xu to retreat into the watchtower.

"Cheers!" Everyone raised their glasses and downed the red wine. They had mostly been chatting before and hadn't drunk much, so this single glass didn't have much of an intoxicating effect.

Leng Xuan stood to the side in silent stillness. When Master Chong arrived, his eyes snapped open, two bolts of cold lightning sweeping across the monk’s face. It was a fleeting look of surprise and anger that vanished as quickly as it appeared, leaving him once again with his head bowed and eyes lowered, returning to his withered, lifeless air.

If this were truly the case, then those most likely to target him within the Tang Sect would be none other than the candidates for the sect's inheritance.

He knew that, more often than not, status was complete nonsense, and only might made right. If you displeased someone and they killed you on a whim, given their status, you would have no choice but to accept your fate.

After wandering around, dawn arrived, and a mountain peak blocked their path. The terrain was steep, towering above its peers. A giant rock stood at the foot of the mountain; through the thick white snow, the characters "Mist Spirit" were vaguely visible.