Zhou Qi thought carefully about Han Yan’s previous actions and even suspected that Han Yan wasn’t just lucky, but actually clairvoyant, already knowing that there were treasures to be found there.
He felt more and more uneasy, and without a foolproof plan, he dared not make a move.
"Zhou Qi, you worry too much," Fourth Miss Zhao said after a moment of silence, her face darkening as she spoke slowly, "That chess piece will probably not be needed in the future. This time, I will let it serve its final purpose. Han Yan, no matter how cunning he is, no matter how lucky he gets, he must die this time!"
"Are you talking about Mu Cheng?" Zhou Qi thought of something, his eyes suddenly lighting up.
Fourth Miss Zhao didn’t reply but stood up and quietly walked outside.
Zhou Qi watched Fourth Miss Zhao’s retreating figure, feeling mixed emotions—disgust, contempt, and a touch of palpitation. What kind of woman is this? She twists men around her finger, each utterly infatuated with her, yet they do not know how venomous and vile she truly is. Such a woman, even if she wanted to marry him, he would rather stay single for life than wed her.
For now, he decided to continue pandering to her superficially, to use her to eliminate those obstacles, until his family gained power in Heishi City and his grandfather took the position of City Lord, appointing him the Young City Lord. Then, he would kick this detestable woman to the curb. Zhou Qi was calculating his wishful plans, unaware that Fourth Miss Zhao’s ambitions had long since changed.
The night was vast, and deep within a small valley thousands of miles from Cangshan City near the Longyan Mountains, lights shone brightly.
The valley was strewn with rugged rocks, resembling ruins. Despite the countless years that had passed, a close look still revealed traces of axe cuts and arrow shots on the broken stones. Who could have imagined that this hidden ruin was an ancient battlefield relic, where many ancient masters were buried?
After tens of thousands of years of erosion, their bodies and weapons had turned to dust, but at the center of the ruins, a partly intact stele still stood crookedly.
At that moment, an elder wearing the same sword robe as Duan Tianya stood beside the stele. With quick motions, he cast a series of Hand Formations, and the ancient characters on the stele emitted a fantastical glow. Fresh chapters posted on NoveI-Fire.ɴet
These were known as Divine Texts. Nowadays, no one recognized this script, said to be used by the strong of the Ancient Era; each character contained infinite mysteries, and together they could fathom the universe.
Duan Tianya and several other men stood around, nervously and expectantly watching the older man. From the silver sword emblems embroidered on their clothes, it was clear that these men were all instructors at Zhengying Academy, although their ranks were slightly lower than Duan Tianya and the elder.
The elder, sweating profusely, was trembling slightly in his fingers with each Hand Formation he executed, his face pale.
Suddenly, he stopped his Hand Formation, stumbled, and nearly fell.
The glow from the stele abruptly vanished, along with the characters on it, making it look like an ordinary broken stele.
"Pang Daoist, how did it go?" a slightly younger instructor asked urgently.
"It’s still not working," the elder sighed.
His name was Pang Dezong, a Holy Sword Master. Unlike Duan Tianya, who was famous in Anyun for his Sword Skill Cultivation, Pang’s expertise was not in swordsmanship but in Alchemy Technique. His alchemy skills were legendary, even earning him a position as the Imperial Alchemist for the Royal Family of Anyun Country and as the chief Alchemist at Zhengying Academy.