Chapter One Hundred and Five: Liu Chengfeng

The corpulent man on the left, seeing that the visitor had already come in, had no choice but to recline awkwardly in the grand chair, lit a cigarette, and took two deep drags. "Master Xie, what brings you to see me today?"

I forced a wide smile, flattering him with false warmth. Damn you, fatty, you really intend to sever ties with me? Don’t forget the blood oath you swore in the forbidden grounds of the Si Cao matron—bound to life and death with the South Gate Hall, sharing fortunes and misfortunes. Break that oath, and...

It wasn’t that Lin Yun dared not speak; the letter had come from Zhang Ping abroad. Lin Yun feared that mentioning Zhang Ping might upset her and bring trouble upon himself for unlocking the door improperly—a loss too great to bear.

Seeing his master’s demeanor, the Azure Dragon Battle Spirit turned and approached the mysterious egg, tapping it gently with its claw. Sun Li, observing where the spirit pointed, furrowed her brow in contemplation.

Thinking that Li Qingyun had promised to accompany her tomorrow, Anyang’s lips curled into an uncontrollable smile as he spoke.

“Hmm…” Sensing the unsettling atmosphere around them, Anyang steadied himself by placing his palm on Li Mingcheng’s arm, his long hair cascading lazily as he leaned in.

Ye Mo was already aware of An Ran’s true nature, so he had grown somewhat accustomed to his behavior.

Tying the ominous talisman to the sacred tree at the shrine, it was expected that a priest would later retrieve it and perform a ritual to dispel the bad luck.

As for the site supervisor, he was utterly despicable—interrupting the pouring midway with trivial excuses was a blatant act of extortion and retaliation when his bribe failed.

The hall fell into sudden silence for a few seconds before erupting like an explosion, everyone frantically dialing numbers on their phones.

Originally, the altar had been shattered by a thunderous strike, but Xu Dong had now fully restored it to its former glory.

Ruo Fei curiously asked Liu Cang if anything unusual had occurred during their journey to Ling Mountain with Chen Dong.

On the last day of the fifty-first year, the sudden snowstorm miraculously ceased. From the first day of the new year until the Lantern Festival, clear skies prevailed, bringing much auspiciousness to the new year.

Inside and out, the father and son simultaneously looked toward Madam Shen San—one with confusion, the other with a flash of cold mockery in his eyes.

“No problem. Just watch how your husband shows his skills. Haha, if I win, I’ll give you a surprise,” Wang Chen teased playfully.

My face burned with embarrassment, unable to utter another word. With Chang Xi still here, had she overheard my restless moans on Shunzhi’s body just now? What a shameful loss of face.

“You actually killed Xiapie!” Han Bangchui flew over to the lifeless body on the ground, trembling as he cradled his dead cousin, glaring fiercely at Long Yuji on the martial stage, his eyes as cold as snow.

Honestly, she now rose earlier than anyone, worked harder than an ox, had only about ten days off a year during the New Year, and still had to entertain guests. What kind of life was this as an empress?

“The man has been released, and the antidote given. What more do you want?” The emperor approached Lu Fei but kept his distance, asking aloud.

Yinzhen didn’t even glance at him. With a flick of his sleeve, he walked with Huizhu into the courtyard but suddenly stopped and said, “You have betrayed my trust. You are hereby demoted to Duke of a Secondary State and relieved of all duties. Focus solely on handling Hongshi’s funeral.” With that, he turned and left.

Upon hearing this, the concubines present all wore expressions of ‘just as expected.’ It seemed my image as a weak-willed empress was well established.

Closing her eyes softly, Han Ning remained silent, pain lingering in her heart, the trauma still fresh. The more so, the more she sought a way to break the curse.

After all, this event had been orchestrated solely by Su Ge from the start, with impure intentions. It was enough that those who needed to be here had arrived.

Besides the families who had fought alongside the founding emperor Murong Yan in his campaigns, only three families had been granted dukedoms in the entire thousand-year history of the nation’s founding—and these titles could not be inherited indefinitely. Only ordinary hereditary succession applied, with heirs inheriting a rank lower than their predecessors.