Chapter Ninety-Seven: He Looks Down on Us

Pretoria, also known as Tshwane, was founded in 1855. The presidential residence and the embassies of many nations are all located in this city, making it South Africa’s true administrative center.

Unlike other South African cities, Pretoria has a very high white population; walk its streets and alleys, and nearly everyone you see is white.

It is not only highly developed and modern, but also remarkably beautiful, especially from October to November, when the flowers bloom and it becomes a rare “garden city.”

Nielg had just arrived there and was staying in a apartment he had prepared in advance.

In the main courtyard of the Prince’s Manor, Mu Xuefu irritably smoothed the fur of Snowball while Yun Shu’s sycophantic flattery droned in her ears. She had only just seen off one Luo Xianxian, and now here came another Yun Shu; she had not had a moment’s peace all morning. No, to be exact, she had not had peace for quite some time.

Inside it was somewhat dark, with huge coiling-dragon sword pillars lined up on both sides at intervals of ten meters, stretching all the way into the depths of the great hall.

Xia Liu understood that they had reached the boundary. At the same time, his divine sense also detected that the spatial rifts far below were growing far more numerous.

Although no one could see through how Zhou Liang had managed all of this, everyone still breathed a sigh of relief.

After a morning’s practice, Qian Yun felt that his swordsmanship had not improved much, but his body and true essence had been tempered instead.

By now, although some experts dissatisfied with the Great Elder had left the family, there were still many powerful figures under the Great Elder’s command. Men such as Yang Wen, Yang Jue, Yang Lu, and Yang Yong—leading figures of the Yang family’s middle generation—now all belonged to the Great Elder’s faction, while within their own direct line, the number of true experts was pitifully small.

Supplies—I’m sure there must be resources like that. Among the items air-dropped earlier, there were even daily necessities and some rations, but nothing at all resembling medicine. Clearly, it was aimed at something very specific.

I nodded. Li Youxue seemed not to know, but this trip had yielded great rewards, so it was acceptable.

A few minutes later, hoofbeats sounded from far away, clip-clopping through the distance. We turned toward the noise and saw two horses approaching. Their appearance was bizarre: the heads of lions, the legs of cattle, and the tails of wolves. They were like some impossible blend of beasts, clearly not horses from our dimension.

He had no idea that what had begun as nothing more than a brief conversation had ended up like this, nor did he know who among them had been at fault. All he knew was that he now felt an inexplicable sense of loss.

Standing beside him, Leng Xuan wore a face of frost, cold and forbidding. It seemed she had always been like this; to those who did not know her, she looked as though the world owed her money, a thoroughly unsparing, world-weary sort of face.

Liu Xie sat upon the imperial carriage, robed in ceremonial splendor and wearing the crowns and pendants of state. He was already seven chi tall, the imperial sword hanging at his waist, regal spirit shining in his brows. Yet Sun Jian sat at his side. The scholars lining the streets, along with some of the old ministers of the Han court, found the scene deeply strange, though none wished to speak of it.

As Fang Yuan described it, within the thunderclouds the legendary bird streaked past in flashes of lightning and rolls of thunder, while torrential rain, fierce winds, hail, and tornadoes erupted one after another.

The new spring line from Chanel included a coarse-knit black dress, and only a devoted admirer like her could have purchased it so easily.

Yet when the results came out, Shi Ya was beaming with delight. She turned back smugly to glance at Chen Mo, only to find, to her surprise, that there was no displeasure on his face at all—only a faint smile.

Song Qingcheng nodded and was just about to turn and go back when he suddenly felt his true essence sealed in an instant, his entire body unable to move. At the same time, fear flashed across Gu Yiren’s face as well, yet she seemed frozen too, unable to speak or move, just like him.

At the very last moment, Fang Yuan looked toward the Flaming Bird. At that, the bird also, with obvious pain, parted with a single red feather in the shape of flame.

This was her second time entering the president’s office on the top floor since joining the Jian Group four years ago. The first had been on the day she was promoted to design director last month.

Only when she heard Murata Yuna’s voice did Yu Haitang finally feel the pain. She silently chided herself for having been too preoccupied with Xiao Yuchen’s safety to notice, and she had no idea whether the arrow had been poisoned.