Chapter 28: White Radish and Mutton Soup

Pei Shiyin spent the entire afternoon at the office in a state of distraction; one moment, He Yunjia’s exquisite smile haunted her thoughts, and the next, it was the shimmering diamond necklace.

Cheng Xiyun and Ning Minyue were both present at the time, yet Pei Zhenteng stormed in to see Cheng Yiben without even bothering to knock.

The young master felt his temples throbbing. Ignoring his cousin’s disdainful gaze, he continued to signal the servants.

As for the house, it was never sold. It had been transferred to Pei Shiyin’s name long ago, serving as both her personal property and her metaphorical family home in City B.

A boundless expanse of fiery magma churned with bubbling gas, bursting forth with a roar. The molten rock scattered, its intense heat self-evident; falling into it would leave absolutely nothing behind.

Xue Yue simply laid down on the bed, ignoring whatever Pang Tong had to say. Pang Tong, seething with silent rage, went to sleep on the hardwood couch by the window.

Li Wo channeled his Yang spiritual energy to bind the mysterious creature, then moved in a flash, sweeping Qian Long away with him.

"Crying poverty won't work on me," Liu Jing said, looking at her with amusement. "Don't think I don't know about your business partnership with Xie Jiming. You two have already lined your pockets." She looked at her as if to say, "You're wealthier than anyone, yet you still pretend to be poor."

This was also Yang Chun’s method of sword training—the most cruel and ruthless approach. One must not only be harsh toward others but even more merciless toward oneself.

How much pain would this action of hers cause in Pei Zhenteng’s heart? She found herself despising her own behavior.

Now, it was not just these few; others had begun to whisper and point at Yang Haoxuan, treating him entirely like a laughingstock.

At this moment, Yang Zhen’s aura had surged from the Quartz Realm to the Corundum Realm, and he was nearly at the cusp of the late-stage Corundum Realm. This meant that Yang Zhen was an ancient tribesman with the power of a mid-stage priest.

His eyes bulged as if they were about to pop from their sockets, and he gnashed his teeth in a snarl, his face resembling a vicious, snarling beast.

Perhaps there is a destiny written in the shadows. If Kuang Shiheng had not cast her out of the family that day, she would not have become the person she was today, nor would he have showered her with such high praise.

"Fine, let’s talk next time, Mr. Tang. He and I will be heading off now." An Bei Qingming was being very respectful toward Ning Chenyuan.

As soon as that thought crossed their minds, they recalled the Sword Pavilion disciple who had died such a miserable death. Suddenly, someone turned and left, prompting others to show similar expressions. The person seemed to be heading toward the direction of the ancient god statue where the Sword Pavilion was located, apparently belonging to the faction of the one who had been killed.

It is silent, formless, and void. It exists independently and does not change; it circulates and functions without ceasing. It can be considered the mother of all things under heaven.

The scene turned deathly silent. Qin Yuan immediately branded the people of Wuling Star as mere cannon fodder, declaring that anyone who dared to step forward would be dead within ten seconds.

"It is done," Xuan Yuanfu said blandly. His voice remained as harsh as ever, and it must have been painful to speak, yet his expression was indifferent, as if he felt no pain at all.

Candlelight flickered, casting her silhouette against the window. Her eyelashes were elongated, and as she curved her eyes, they trembled like butterfly wings.

Ji Wujing sat languidly in a circular chair with a long box on his lap containing fishing gear. Deciding that the fish he ate today wasn't delicious enough, he resolved to go fishing himself tomorrow.

Tong En held a simple dress in her hands, feeling quite hesitant. It was a royal blue silk dress—very soft with a graceful drape. The style was simple and elegant, featuring several rows of loose pleats falling from the neckline and shoulders, with mid-length sleeves and a knee-length hem. It looked both dignified and fashionable.

Ling Yunpeng sat before the shop window, sipping his coffee with composure while flipping through a magazine. From time to time, his eyes scanned the street opposite, searching for a familiar figure.

The force invading Jizhou was the Mongol Left Wing Army, claiming a strength of two hundred thousand. Led by Suhe, this number actually included cooks and porters; furthermore, the figure was inflated, and in reality, there were only about one hundred thousand combat soldiers.

Yin Yi ran out of the hospital and sat under a plane tree outside, hurriedly calling the head of the charity foundation.

Tan Hongming bowed three times before Zhang Xiaobo’s grave and then left the desolate burial ground, immediately instructing his driver to take him to Jikang Hospital.

Even if her "Lie" knew that Shen Yan harbored inappropriate thoughts toward her, the matter of the stolen underwear had to be kept a secret; otherwise, her Lie would surely skin Shen Yan alive.

The news was released only after TAA’s bankruptcy announcement; anyone with a discerning eye knew exactly what was going on.

Zhong Yue’s words thundered in her ears. Faced with his sincerity, Tong En felt inferior for the first time.

After all, Ding Yu’s prowess had always been demonstrated through his powerful offensive capabilities; they had never actually seen him display any formidable defensive skills.

Qin Hao was already feeling a bit homesick; otherwise, he wouldn't have seized the opportunity to produce the salt permit so early. In truth, compared to this, the Green Gang, the warships, and the so-called Yangzhou development were all trivial matters.

"I beg the Ancestor to protect the Wang family from this disaster!" The remaining Wang family martial artists all knelt toward the source of the voice, their eyes filled with a newfound hope for survival.

If you resist or voice an objection, the Ghost Market’s enforcers will emerge. Naturally, whoever holds an item owns it—a very straightforward method of handling things, which perfectly embodies the Ghost Market’s philosophy that might makes right.

Qin Feng had already collected twenty-one of the twenty-four supreme heavenly treasures; now, only the Brahma Mirror, the Heaven-Confusing Ribbon, and the Heaven-Opening Axe remained.

"Old man, are you feeling better? Did you find the newspaper?" A gust of eerie wind blew open the doors of Grandpa Li’s kiosk, causing him to shiver instinctively in his chair.

They could only earn five or six thousand a month after working themselves to the bone, yet now they were just being asked to step aside. It was hard to fathom what those two were thinking.