Chapter One Hundred Fifteen

The next day, along the same verdant path, Cao Zhengchun presented an urgent letter—marked for eight hundred miles—to Zhu Yu.

The letter laid out the entire situation clearly and plainly.

Heavy rains and blazing sun were indeed the initial factors, but the main issue was that all the grain stored in the Le’an Prefecture granary had been sold off, leaving the vast majority of food supplies out of the hands of the common people.

The money from the sales was divided between the prefect of Le’an and the commanders of the Eastern and Western Factories stationed there.

Meanwhile, the young noblemen in the capital were too delicate and weak; if they jumped in now, they might never reach the shore again.

“Aren’t you supposed to be rivals?! When did you become friends?!” Ran Tianyou was quite surprised by her intense reaction.

“We didn’t know you were inside the building,” Momo added, apparently confirming the closeness of their relationship.

“Hello everyone, my name is Xu Renguang. I hope to count on your support,” Xu Renguang said, having dressed up carefully today to make a good impression on Wang Yuehan. His boss had lifted the financial restrictions on him, leaving him quite flush with cash. That Porsche Cayenne he drove last night was a new purchase from just two days ago.

“I’m willing,” Bai Jinghai volunteered to serve the Fourteenth Brother. Zhu Hong hesitated but did not stop her.

Bana walked forward with a vacant look, choosing not to fly—perhaps she wanted to prolong this walk a little longer to please her father.

Listening to the young cultivator’s words, the group grew increasingly astonished, their curiosity fixed on the mirror in his hand. Even Ma Tian, who had been watching the cliff below, turned his head thoughtfully towards the precious object.

The sky blazed with crimson sunset clouds, the sun’s last glimmer just revealing its eye. The grand procession of Ye Qingjue, the Fifth Monk Mo, and Wu Shang set off on their journey.

Tim Mello glanced at Zhang Yunze, but Zhang’s eyes only reflected confidence and determination. Could it be? Tim, experienced and worldly, suddenly entertained a wild notion—could Zhang Yunze actually be...?

“No need to raise your voice, Imperial Uncle. Yan Bo has keen hearing; he can hear you calling me,” a low voice whispered in Li Yancheng’s ear. Li Yanbo’s face bore a grim smile.

That was Jin Si’s second incarnation of faith, radiating boundless light naturally from Bai Yu’s skin, illuminating the figure bathed in its glow with a serene and gentle aura.

In fact, those who remained here would not take long at all. Once here, they could easily eliminate those present.

As the crowd grew, someone finally dared to approach the collapsed tent. Raising a massive axe, he swung with all his might.

In those brief words, the difference from ten years ago was like night and day. The shift was so great it seemed the speaker had regained normal thought, causing Mai Ha’er to frown.

“All junior brothers, heed my command: unify your hearts and minds, merge into the grand formation, and align with my righteous heart,” the highest-ranking cultivator within the mystical domain of divine powers called out sharply. The disciples below responded with a thunderous roar, their momentum fierce as wolves and tigers.

“Greetings, City Lord!” Li He bowed deeply to Ye Tian, his face full of respect.

Once the personnel had withdrawn, the ships could be remotely controlled to carry out various non-combat missions. There was no need to worry about the warships lying idle—they would still exert their residual strength within the war zone, eliminating remaining infected soul bodies and reducing their latent threat.

After Han Wang left, Yue Feiyue once again came before Lady Yao’s door. Speaking among family, there were no longer any reservations.

“Heh heh... supreme methods, nothing more,” Yan Tian boasted arrogantly, though just moments ago the exchange had left him at a disadvantage. Still, he felt justified in his pride.