Chapter 61: The Drunken Immortal Pavilion

Sheng Xiayan stood in her place, watching as Xie Xunzhi and Shadow Three's figures gradually vanished into the night before she lowered her head to open the money pouch in her hand.

Inside lay a considerable amount of silver. She casually picked up a single ingot, estimating it to be at least fifty taels, and there was likely even more left inside the pouch.

"Hmph, quite generous."

She let out a soft laugh, tucked away the pouch, and headed towards the most renowned restaurant in the capital...

However, Lin Yilong was also well aware that expecting musicians to entirely dedicate themselves to the creation and performance of a single artistic genre and style was nearly impossible, so he simply gave Amy free rein over her taste in art business.

Xie Fan's voice carried a nasal twinge, as if she had been choked by water. With every breath she exhaled, it brushed against Han Yi's face—fragrant like orchids and musk, warm yet carrying a humid moisture. Han Yi's breathing grew heavy, feeling as though he had inhaled every bit of it into his body. She squirmed and wiggled twice, sliding downwards against him.

With its assistance, though his internal energy recovered slowly, it was still a tiny fraction greater than what was being consumed. Coupled with his natural recovery, it finally prevented his Dantian from remaining empty.

Dan Yue continued to observe the chaotic battle outside through the spatial projection, noticing that the demons within were growing weaker and more exhausted with every strike.

As a newcomer, Zhao Jieyu did not dare to chime in or say much, yet she thoroughly enjoyed listening to them gossip about and arrange Yao Shunrong.

Though Noble Consort De could be considered a towering tree—and as the saying goes, it is good to enjoy the shade under a great tree—the Emperor was a tree with far deeper roots and a trunk infinitely sturdier than hers. How could she possibly have the qualifications or ability to rival Yao Shunrong?

A boy wearing a baseball cap was already waiting by a table, so Lin Yilong and his companions sat down, prompting a round of re-introductions.

Instantly erupting with such an attack from his height of over two meters, the sensation he gave off was as overwhelming as a collapsing sky. Li Xianyu's expression changed abruptly, feeling as though Han Yi's five fingers were like five rods, and his palm was as vast as the heavens, blocking out even the light of the sun.

"Could it be, Katie, that you don't like clean and tidy rooms, but rather prefer something a bit dilapidated and messy?" Lin Yilong asked.

They had fallen for a trap; Bran had never manipulated the Pool of Foresight at all. He had merely concealed the water, covering it with magic to mimic the pool's changes, thereby manufacturing a series of illusions.

She could feel his body trembling. In that very moment, he must have been just like her—scared out of his wits, perhaps even more terrified than she was.

Eldest Brother had told Zichen that if he ever failed her, he would surely destroy his empire, and Zichen had only smiled lightly, saying he believed him.

The plan had originally been well laid out, and several of their martial arts friends were loyal enough to take the risk of being captured by posing as bandits, waiting for the appointed day to execute the operation.

She only wanted to learn how to be independent, since after all, she would only have herself in the future. Yan Xiaoxiao's gaze carried a hint of desolation.

Lin Xiao abruptly raised his head, instantly catching sight of the black canvas shoes stepping slowly out of the void in the sky, alongside the unceasing, echoing sounds of clashing golden armor and iron horses ringing in his ears, leaving him utterly shocked to the core.

"Why are you smoking so much? Is something tricky going on at the company?" Yan Xiaoxiao belatedly noticed the numerous cigarette butts filling the ashtray.

She had finally waited for a sentence of companionship from the person she desired, a promise of never leaving nor forsaking, yet it came under such circumstances.

Raphael lifted his head, locking his gaze directly onto the pair of serene, smiling eyes looking down at him from behind the railing, remaining silent.

The high-end, imposing gates were tightly shut at this moment, even secured with a heavy iron lock, leaving not even a watchman behind.

Murong Qingwan looked at her persistent expression, the helplessness in her heart spreading outward. How could she bear to part with her? It was simply that her own remaining time was pitifully short; if she did not do what needed to be done while she still had the ability, she feared that once that day truly arrived, it would be too late.

No sooner said than done. To prevent another accident that might burn down the house, Yue Chengfeng went directly to the wide stone martial arts practice ground at the eastern end of the large courtyard, preparing to practice there first.