Volume One, Chapter 43: The Literary Gathering of Four Kingdoms—Qin Bao Stands Alone in Splendor!

Emperor Xuanwu gazed at Qin Bao with growing admiration. Truly, this was a worthy son-in-law in whom he had placed his trust—full of resolve, courage, and, above all, magnanimity. With such bravery, Emperor Xuanwu was willing to grant his wish, for he believed in Qin Bao above all else.

Just then, six more figures appeared in the square: Li You, Black Blood, Shadow of Flowers, and the Three Marvels of Praying Moon—Wu Wei, Chi Yang, and Gu Qi.

It was obvious to him that Mu Xianling desired those earrings, but Tang Yi was acting, only pretending, and could not show any sign of determination to win them for her, nor could he promise Mu Xianling he would secure them as a gift.

Shangguan Long and Song Haotian exchanged glances, and after a brief look of understanding, an idea began to form between them.

The Heavenly Sage and several elders also exchanged glances, a trace of inquiry in their eyes, faintly suspecting that the medicine Yin Junfeng sought could be none other than the peerless and precious Resurrection Nine-Life Pill, one of the Shushan Sect’s most treasured artifacts.

Earlier, everyone had been immersed in the energetic dance and music, with the flickering lights disguising arrivals and departures, and familiarity dulling their vigilance. When this voice rang out, the music halted and the lights blazed to life.

Captain Rook, hearing these words, no longer dared to hope for an optimistic outcome; he had truly experienced the lawless mind of this master.

Originally, he had not planned to give the matter directly to Chu Wei, but now he realized that perhaps this was an excellent opportunity and a worthy successor.

The moment the Golden Axe appeared, Tianquan’s gaze was immediately drawn into it, unable to look away, his face transforming with shock as he spoke.

It had scarcely been any time since Alt and his companions had departed, and yet they had already returned. Not only that, but Song Ming’s carefully devised plan had been executed as scheduled. On the surface, the preliminary assault on the outsiders seemed all but complete—perhaps even flawlessly so. Yet Song Ming could not shake a sense of unease, a chill creeping into his heart.

The great white wolf, despite its powerful claws digging desperately into the ground, could not halt its sliding body. The metallic claws on its hind legs screeched with a piercing “creak...” sound.

Sun Wukong must learn to scheme—at the very least, he must surpass them in cunning. This is not cruelty, nor does it mean making Sun Wukong suspicious of everyone. Rather, it is because his memory has been altered. What if, one day, the Buddha should use someone Sun Wukong believes to be dear to him as a means of deception?

“But this time, I’ll just cheer you three on from the sidelines,” Yamazaki Masayoshi said lightly.

If the cook could create a new dish with a flavor unknown to Him, He would bestow a reward.

“All right! Though I hate to trouble my sister and delay her, today I must ask you to accompany me,” Wan Xiaoru looked apologetically at Wan Yunshuang and finally nodded in agreement.

While playing the game, Fang Ning overheard the others’ conversation and remembered that most of these people were ordinary folk. Though only half a day would pass outside, inside, they would truly age six months—a difference from his own circumstances. With nothing here, he thought it best to let them leave quickly, lest their lives be wasted.

“You humans are always so cautious, worrying over every possibility. Why bother? If soldiers come, I’ll resist; if floods come, you’ll block them,” the old man remained utterly unconcerned.

Unwilling—just like pieces on a chessboard, the paths they walked and the purposes they pursued had all been predetermined. Did they truly wish to accept such a fate, moving forward step by step? No, they refused to become pawns in another’s hand, or ants in the eyes of others.