100 Brown Bear-Class Warriors (8,000 Words, Please Subscribe and Vote Monthly)

The next day.

Before dawn had fully broken, Chen Anquan set out early, carrying a tall bamboo basket on his back as he headed toward Mount Aobei.

The secret of Mount Aobei was always at risk of being uncovered. His mission was to ensure that once the ripe land was fully matured, he would harvest it all at once, leaving no trace for others to discover this secret later.

Navigating the dense and tangled forest of Mount Aobei, Chen Anquan relied on his keen night vision, moving with the agility of a mountain goat across the steep cliffs.

So I pursued. I chased through the passage of fleeting years, weathered the ever-changing world, passed by azure skies and jade seas, witnessing the exchange of faces on the other shore. In the end, I understood that perseverance and loss have always existed in the same place, intrinsically linked.

At last, he grew weary of listening, for in that state of decay, when others paired them off, he no longer cared.

Ye Chen, working nearby, frowned and called for Aunt He. After she spoke briefly with her, Aunt He left.

At that moment, Empress Dowager Yin could only think: This Captain Chu Hang isn’t bad. Why does he hide his face? She had thought there might be some flaw on his face.

A few startled cries rang out as Chi Qiao instinctively reached out to grab her, but ended up tearing the white gauze dress she wore and failed to lessen the force of her fall.

“I’ve already arranged it. Come with me to a place,” he said, reaching out quickly to grasp her hand.

Leaving those words behind, Liang Yimo, unconcerned with the fact that it was working hours, dashed out of the café and wandered aimlessly through the streets.

Although Nie Yukun’s scheme was flawless, employing a rare and exquisite artifact seldom seen in a century, falsehoods remain falsehoods. Such frequent trades even unsettled Li Lufei, who sensed the lurking danger and madness. Could Nie Yukun really be so fearless?

“Don’t be so polite, sister,” Su Ran Hua said without moving. She lifted her eyes to fix Su Ran Qing with a steady gaze, her bright eyes scanning her face back and forth.

Others could not hear the conversation between Chu Hang and Ximen Zhe, only witnessing the two standing face to face, their hostility as fierce as fire and water.

The elderly mother, her hair now white with age, refused to leave her homeland like others. Thus, her strong and vigorous son stayed behind to keep her company.

The morning light was faint as the misty city began to awaken. I blinked open my eyes groggily, meticulously dressed and washed, my heart full of thoughts for Musa still at the hotel. Just as I was about to step out, my father suddenly stopped me.

Musa’s embrace was tight, his body trembling as if summoning every ounce of strength to hold me within his grasp.

The scorching summer was coming to an end, yet the cicadas’ chorus persisted tirelessly through the night.

Shen Yuechen smiled again. “Don’t worry, sister-in-law. My thoughts aren’t that heavy.” She took a sip of the golden jujube tea in her cup and nodded in satisfaction.

Xuanyuan Mo could have kept this matter to himself, but he chose to reveal his plan to Emperor Yongjia today, which showed he still respected the emperor—though that respect had its limits.

Yet Duan Haoze felt a chill. Yes, he sensed an extreme cold emanating from Duan Haoyang.

She opened her eyes and quietly gazed upon Zhu Jintang’s peaceful sleeping face, her mind recalling the wisdom her grandmother had shared about men.

“Brother Zhang, in Heishan, to put it simply, Wang Zhanheng’s influence exceeds two hundred thousand. This money you spent was worth it, truly!” Zhao Xu remarked.

Zhang Liang thought Zhao Xie was extraordinary, but regretted his late start. Had he begun alongside the King of Han, he might have taken power during the nation’s restoration and possessed such capability. Then, it would have been Zhao Xie, not the King of Han, contesting the realm with Xiang Yu.

At 9 a.m. the next day, Shang Xin awoke from a dream feeling somewhat fatigued. In his dream, he had battled Tang Yan for three hundred rounds, the dream so vivid. But surely no man could resist a beauty like her.

Before the ATM, Shang Xin inserted his bank card and entered a password of six ones. His eyes widened in disbelief as he counted the zeros after the five—indeed, it was five hundred thousand.