Chapter 80: The Wedding Day (Bonus Chapter—Please Subscribe!)

“How is the program going to change, then?” Andre Lindbergh immediately shifted into a professional mindset. There was no point in anger or complaints now—any negative emotions could wait until after the performance, when he could discuss things with the organizers at length. For now, the most urgent matter was the imminent performance.

Yan Nan found some cooking oil in the camp, poured it over several tents, struck a match, and tossed it inside. Instantly, the entire camp was ablaze, thick smoke billowing straight into the sky.

Chen Wanrong glanced at the table and saw four ingots of pure silver, their luster dazzling and beautiful. In his hands, they felt warm and smooth, without the slightest roughness—the Tang Dynasty’s silver-smelting skill was truly refined, certainly on par with their coin minting.

“It’s him!” As soon as Jin Xi saw the chief manager, she recognized him. Wasn’t this the very same Qin Langyue who, years ago, had come to Meishan Villa to buy fresh fruit, inadvertently inspiring her to open ‘The Language of Fruit’?

Now that soap production had increased, there was a great demand for wooden boxes, and they couldn’t keep up with the orders without more oil. Chen Wanrong laughed and said, “Alright, you’re busy. I’ll be on my way.” He drove the ox cart away.

Upon hearing this, Wilson immediately objected. Others might be ignorant, but he well understood Yan Nan’s ties to the two great financial groups—this would be like showing off swordplay before the god of war, likely ending in utter disaster.

In the diagonal corner from the console and the sofa, two guitars and a bass were stacked, along with three movable round ottomans. The ample remaining space allowed for easy movement, lending a sense of leisure and comfort.

None of her letters ever mentioned giving up on Zhang Chu; she always wanted him to wait for her. She loved Zhang Chu more than she loved her own parents.

The man, wild in appearance, swept in like a gale off the sea, crossing the horizon in a flash to stand before Que, and without hesitation, dropped to one knee.

“Knead… knead what? Do you even have any?” Ji Minai’s gaze flickered over Yu Linglong’s chest for less than a second before darting away, her meaning clear: she wasn’t the least bit interested.

“Greetings, Master,” the alchemist bowed his head in salute, though his gaze involuntarily fell upon the other.

While thinking these thoughts, the dust settled, and suddenly a figure emerged where there had been none before.

The reason for his arrival likely had to do with some intrinsic property of itch itself—a strange force akin to the ‘inner strength’ of candle flames had drawn him in.

If Wang Ying answered that only two or three survived in the end, Daoxian would certainly ask: but aren’t there countless soldiers of the People’s Liberation Army on the warship ahead?

The Empress Dowager praised him with a smile—after a lifetime in the palace, flattery had become second nature.

Unbeknownst to her, behind the pair, the warriors of the Golden and Silver Armies quietly exhaled. These two legendary assassins, who had once shaken the world, now broke into a cold sweat behind their backs.

So even though nothing was written on the wall this time, everyone automatically blamed Harry.

“Hmph, and you say you’re not hurt?” Seeing this, Yu Linglong understood—this wasn’t adolescent posturing; Ji Minai was merely pretending to be melodramatic.

That is why, through the years, he treated himself with near-cruel severity; whenever he struggled to persevere, he reminded himself to grow stronger, for only strength could protect the things he cherished. Ultimately, his efforts paid off: five years ago, under the name Zi Qianye, he founded the Palace of a Thousand Nights and built his powerful influence.

“Tolstoy, are you alright?” Taimurad felt the old rascal’s blood spatter across his back. Frantically beating his wings, he shouted back to Old Li, “Is it serious?”

Shao Han saw that the Boar King was no longer enraged and approached again, sword in hand. Over ten minutes had already passed. The familiar black gleam of the Dull Blade flashed under the beast’s throat.

“Luo’er is getting more mischievous—and smarter, too. I like her even more,” Cang He smiled wickedly, though his eyes remained icy.

“I won’t disturb Father Emperor’s rest any longer. Tomorrow, I will bring the unrivaled gentleman to the palace to cure you. I’m sure she can heal you,” Mu Shaogong declared.

In the immortal realm of Great Qin, Sima Tian, head of the Golden Emerald Mist Mountain, rivaled Jiang Congzi in power; both were ranked among the top ten on the Immortal List.

Zheng Zha was only just between the first and second stages of the fourth rank; if he could already control his killer instincts, it would truly astonish Li Xiaoyi.

These thousand men were ordinary garrison soldiers, not elite shock troops. Even if the elite were here, they could not hold out long against a force more than twenty times their size.

“Have Hanfeng investigate today’s events. No matter who it is, you know what to do—kill.” Mo Yu Jingchen’s cold, ruthless voice sent a chill through Xin’er.

Cai Yan assigned some tasks to Gao Shun, who, upon hearing her instructions, finally breathed a little easier.

All the while, Zu Mao cursed as he was forced to dodge and parry Garcia’s relentless attacks in utter disarray.

This, in my mother’s mind, cemented the impression that ‘you came first, and you set your sights on Ye Ge first.’

Ma Yousheng was the first major customer at the lakeside campsite and the first group event client as well. Since he had already promised, there was no way Ice Lake Campground could afford to lose face now.

According to the mission’s pace, he would need at least fifteen more days to complete the monthly task.

He was no longer the naïve nobleman of a decade ago—he would never allow the tragedies of another world to unfold in his own.