Chapter 135: The Simplified Presidential Suite

With the mission accomplished, Lin Buwan and the others did not return to the research institute, but instead sprinted directly toward the city center.

As for Tian Feng, although he was startled by Mu Hongguo’s physical form, he instantly sensed that the strength of this strange Qilin was far weaker than that of the Undying Fire Qilin he had encountered before. Bolstering his spirits, he managed to hold off the attacks of two Undying Qilins single-handedly, even maintaining an offensive stance with little need for defense.

Upon hearing this, Yin Xiuxuan nodded and gave his assent. In his heart, however, he mused that the grudge between him and Xiao Lu was likely far more profound than this mere war of words; to be precise, he himself was partly to blame for that altercation.

Yin Xiuxuan was shocked by the news. He harbored too many secrets, the most sensitive of which was his simultaneous cultivation of the five elements. Although the secret technique known as the "Art of Returning to the Origin" helped him conceal his true nature from most prying eyes—even his master, Qingxu, had failed to detect anything amiss—he remained wary.

The feudal lords were particularly overjoyed when, halfway through their journey, they received the imperial decree deposing the empress and the crown prince.

By the time he finished speaking, the Elder of the Crow-folk’s face was etched with pain and sorrow, and some of the Crow-folk sitting below had even begun to shed tears.

Although Yan Qingyuan’s eyes were closed, he could still feel the rhythmic rising and falling of her chest. His thick eyelashes fluttered slightly, and he rubbed against her embrace, unable to suppress his longing.

Likewise, she knew that this matter had never truly been a question of right or wrong. If she were to assign blame, she felt she was the one who was more at fault. From the very beginning, many things had been entirely her own unilateral decisions; she had neither consulted Shen Junyu nor considered his feelings.

Shen Tingyu had sacrificed his dignity and himself for the sake of his kin. In exchange for his obedience, the tribe had indeed granted him and Xiang Nong a chance to linger on in wretched survival. For a time, he had truly believed that there was still hope.

Deep inside the cavern, the scene was not the pitch-black darkness Mu Ling had imagined. Light filtering in from an unknown source made the Ancient Flame Dragon Cave unusually bright. After walking forward for another hour, a vast, open space appeared before his eyes.

While the two armies stood in a standoff inside and outside Green Jade City, a figure in black watched from a nearby mountain peak.

Local officials held authority over all the grain chiefs and supported them; however, if the chiefs failed to collect the required grain on time or fell short of the quota, the officials would still have them arrested, flogged, and thrown into prison.

The White Wolf had grown significantly. Facing the unarmed, panicked, and fleeing villagers, it would be effortless to exceed its previous kill count—snapping their necks, tearing their flesh, and ripping out their hearts. Hunting them would be as easy as hunting rabbits.

Fortunately, Liu Dazhuang did not dishonor his name. Although the log on his shoulder caused his frame to sway unsteadily, he persisted, step by step. Five meters... ten meters... fifteen meters... twenty meters. He traveled further and further, drawing closer to the city gate.

The pouncing movement was from the perspective of the White Wolf’s soul; in reality, it was an erosion of rules and concepts.

"Woof, woof-woof-woof, woof-woof, woof!" The "General" barked out an order. Four Huskies stepped forward and lunged at Mo Song and his three companions. Just as they braced themselves for defense, they were instantly tossed onto the backs of the Huskies.

"Can we just jump across?" Luo Ting looked toward the center of the lake, unable to stop her mind from racing with endless conjectures.

Indeed, the people of the Southern Border had once worn the exact same expressions. Back then, the Southern Border had been devoid of hope; everyone struggled on the edge of life and death, and beyond the simple desire to survive, they had no other luxuries to dream of.