Chapter 11: Apologizing to the Child

Rarely did Da Bao Gu get a full night's sleep. Usually, his younger brother would wake up in the middle of the night crying, and their mother would ignore them, even complaining about the noise. He had no choice but to get up and fetch some water for his little brother. Sometimes, if he had managed to hide away some coarse grain buns or steamed cornbread during the day, he would soak them in warm water and feed his brother. The little one, never picky when hungry, would eat with relish.

But last night, their mother said that the younger child was still small and would sleep with her from now on, telling Da Bao not to worry and to rest well if he wanted to grow tall. That night, for the first time, he didn’t hear any crying. Could it be that his brother also knew it was more comfortable to stay with their mother?

In truth, that was not the case. The first time—

After Feng San returned to the Drunken Immortal Tavern, he waited in vain for three days before Gongsun Liang finally arrived. When he explained everything, Gongsun Liang was shocked and hurried overnight to Poyang Lake, gathering his men to search the area. But by then, there was no trace of Xiong Ti left to be found.

Indeed, Murong Chen had once wondered why the people in the Central Plains preferred infighting to looking outward. The imperial frontier was still far away; even if ancient roads were difficult to traverse, it shouldn’t have been impossible to venture beyond. Yet, they remained trapped within their own borders.

With a slight frown, Li Hai used his Thunder Spear to push aside the thorns ahead and strode forward. The muddy earth was kept at bay by a layer of violet-blue battle aura around his feet, leaving not a speck upon him.

Feixue’s simple statement left me thoroughly enchanted. To have her as my slave and at my command—what a delight! But for Feixue to say such words, she must have been truly cornered. It seems it wasn’t her own will, but that hardly mattered now; what mattered was what she had just said.

"Thank you, thank you." When Ling Ming expressed her gratitude in the local dialect to the old man by the car, explaining she was only there to look and would leave now that her master had arrived, her perfectly fluent accent instantly shattered any remaining hopes tied to their prior promise.

To awaken the Sinful Dragon, the blood of the other three divine beasts was required—or something akin to it. Otherwise, how did the Fire Qilin Sword awaken the Sinful Dragon? The original story claimed it was to awaken the Water God Ancestor, but if the Fire Qilin Sword could rouse the Water God Ancestor, why not the Sinful Dragon as well?

With the arrival of late autumn, most of the trees in the forest donned yellow robes. Under the brittle autumn wind, they shed their last layer, golden garments fluttering down as leaves, leaving only bare, brown-black, withered trunks and branches behind.

This pause, and the consistency of their actions with an unchanging environment, gave rise to a strange sense of déjà vu.

Two airplanes thundered overhead, their trails lingering long after they passed, while a tiger-skin coat snapped fiercely in the wind.

In front of the old thatched cottage, weeds grew wild, making one wonder if this stretch of new land had been entirely forgotten by the people of the Red Scale Residence, for it looked utterly desolate and impoverished.

Just last week, at the Housing Department when he was purchasing a cave-dwelling, Yuan Mou had spoken with him.

Turning to glance, the first thing that caught his eye was the other’s short chestnut-brown hair and the prominent slanting purple stripes on either side of her cheeks.

Mingyuan, in fact, had not lied—he truly could not respond to Xie Wanying’s feelings. After all, he was already married, and even if he were not, he felt nothing for her.

How sharp are a youth’s senses! He instantly realized that she dared to act so brazenly at a time like this. His expression darkened visibly, a shadow swirling across his features.

At that moment, Yang Ning, sitting in a taxi heading toward Yundu Road, received a message: three hundred thousand had been deposited into his bank account.

He sat there for a long time, until he heard footsteps approaching outside. Only then did Chen Bahuang quietly rise to his feet.

Top-grade spiritual artifacts were still manageable; precious as they were, the risk of hunting Shen Lie was barely acceptable in comparison.

However, two of the teachers, being too old to move about easily, had retired. So Dongshan took over their subjects for the time being, planning to hand them off once new teachers were found.