Volume 1, Chapter 65: My Name Is Qiao Jinchen

Qiao Ruoxi's heart sank.

Her grandmother, Zheng Lanzhi, had been in increasingly poor health over the past few years.

Grandmother had always shown nothing but boundless affection for Qiao Ruoxi and the two grandchildren. She would have plucked the stars from the sky for them if she could, yet she had never made a single demand of Qiao Ruoxi.

In a split second, the entire sky seemed to melt away in a blaze of fire, shining as bright as day, too dazzling to look at directly.

Zhuo Tian nodded in strong agreement. With a casual glance toward the sky, he slashed outward with a hand, sending forth a wave of aquamarine sword qi laced with a faint mist. This mist carried a piercing chill, as though frost were about to condense across the air. Yet, in the end, the frost never fully formed.

The fourth tier was the Sword Spirit Realm, a level far beyond Zhuo Tian's current reach. At this stage, all myriad swords possessed a spirit; attaining it allowed the wielder to become one with the sword, where the blade understood the master's intent, and flying swords could be controlled by a mere thought.

"Why do you keep torturing me instead of just killing me outright?" Lang Tianya went straight to the point.

Seeing him beaten into such a gruesome state, the two bodyguards immediately rushed into the room. Yu Qingcheng was startled, hurriedly turned off the lights, and bolted toward the bedroom clutching a bedsheet.

"Third Brother, how have you survived these past few years?" She finally stemmed her tears, lifted her head from Liu Shuang's embrace, and looked into his face—one that felt both unfamiliar and deeply missed.

After inhaling the spiritual energy contained within that golden elixir in one single breath, Li Hexuan finally became certain that Long Xingyun had truly been eradicated by his own hand.

As for how they would unite, the intricacies were complex and involved a vast amount of physiological knowledge, which meant they had to study biology first.

"The Eight Sovereigns pay their respects to the Lord!" The uniform roar sounded as though it echoed from an age of clashing armor and charging steeds, inevitably stirring a rush of hot blood in one's chest.

"However, I also discovered something else..." Remembering something, Liu Zhenming pulled out a notebook, opened it, and spread it out before Hu Shuntang.

After the Wild Heart Army surged into Dragon City, Xin Kuang was overcome with wild excitement. Following such a prolonged stalemate, they had finally breached Dragon City today—an event he had longed for immensely.

Just as everyone was captivated by the video footage, inside the side chamber adjacent to the hall, Ferdinand was sweating profusely as a shadow watched him. The shadow lacked any definite form, and since the indoor lights were blocked, only wisps of crimson light could be seen drifting within the mysterious figure's eyes.

She bit her lip fiercely, her face utterly drained of color, letting cold sweat stream down her cheeks, droplet by droplet condensing and merging into rivulets.

Witnessing the dreamlike scene that had just unfolded, her body froze involuntarily. Then, she relaxed her tightly clenched fists and let out a quiet sigh of relief. It seemed Muyuan Meng had not returned this time to take her life; otherwise, she could have struck long ago. So, what was the true purpose of this trip back?

Gufan looked at the scene before him, slowly lowered his head, and let out a sigh. Then, turning his gaze toward the northwest corner of the sky, a sense of melancholy and loss washed over him.

"A guest of the Zhang estate?" Hearing Xiu's words, Old man Dong's expression changed ever so slightly.

The man in the bamboo hat nodded slightly. "I understand what you mean. But remember, once it is done, you must not go back on the reward you promised me." With that, he turned as if to leave.

Why was Yin Ziye here? And what about Ranran? Why hadn't Ranran arrived yet? Could something have happened? Tu Baobao knitted her brows in concern.

The imagery stopped there, followed by another vast expanse of blank memory, leaving only a few fragmented pieces that could no longer be pieced together into a complete final chapter. He lowered his head in vexation—why would he dream that she had saved him, and furthermore, dream that he had subjected her to violence?