To Serve Me

The joke made Mu Nianci frown slightly, but she also found it amusing.

She only saw that Ji Boying in front of her was polite and did not seem like a bad person. He also spoke without malice, and perhaps he was genuinely trying to help her.

If I could find a companion for my elderly father, it would be a wonderful thing, like a withered tree coming back to life.

If the old tree can sprout new buds, with God's blessing, and with a little more effort, a healthy baby boy can be born, and someone will carry on the family line.

But Mu Yi's expression changed in surprise because of this joke. For some reason, this old hand suddenly turned pale with anger.

Mu Nianci was also extremely surprised.

"Young master, are you making fun of me?"

Mu Yi spoke coldly, his words filled with anger.

Ji Boying didn't take offense and just laughed it off.

"Haha, there's no past grievance, no present trouble, why am I making fun of you? Everything I've said is from the bottom of my heart, I will definitely make you happy and willing to risk your life for me. Do you dare to take this bet, Yang Tiexin?"

The three words, "lightly," struck Yang Tiexin like a thunderbolt, leaving him frozen in place.

He was extremely surprised, wondering how the person in front of him knew his origins.

"You are Guo...? No, are you Daoist Priest Qiu's disciple?"

Judging from the age of the person in front of him, he was clearly seventeen or eighteen. If his sworn brother's posthumous child were still alive, he would surely be around that age as well.

But look at the tall, handsome man before me, with delicate features and bright eyes.

Where does he bear even the slightest resemblance to his sworn brother?

To put it bluntly, my sister-in-law is just an ordinary peasant woman with large hands and feet and plain looks. How could she possibly give birth to such a son?

If he isn't the son of the sworn brother, and judging from Daoist Priest Wang's reaction just now, this person must be Daoist Priest Qiu's disciple.

While I was still in a daze, I suddenly heard an anxious yet delicate female voice.

"Stop fighting, Daoist priest, please release my son."

Yang Tiexin heard the sound and his ears rang.

Normally, he would have thought that he was just missing his wife and had gone crazy. How could the queen of the Great Jin Dynasty be his wife?

But he only saw Ji Boying looking at him with a half-smile.

Suddenly my heart started pounding, and I had some impossible fantasies.

"Ah... you... that..."

He immediately pointed at Ji Boying, then at the sedan chair, and stammered, unable to speak.

Ji Boying smiled.

"That's exactly what you're thinking. The reasons are too complicated to explain in a short time. Madam Bao is currently being controlled by Prince Zhao, Wanyan Honglie. It will be extremely difficult for you to reunite."

Upon hearing this, Yang Tiexin knelt down before Ji Boying with a thud.

If the person in the sedan chair really was his wife, let alone how deep their feelings were, there was even the fact that she was pregnant with his child back then.

Given the crisis at the time, there shouldn't have been much hope, but now that his wife, from whom he had been separated for eighteen years, had appeared in the capital of the Great Jin Dynasty, could there be a glimmer of hope for that child?

"Young master, as long as you... you are truly capable... if you don't mind my old Yang Tiexin and incompetence, I am willing to serve you faithfully. I will not flinch even if it means going through fire and water. If you want my life, you can offer it up anytime!"

Yang Tiexin spoke, tears welled up in his old eyes.

"Father?"

Mu Nianci panicked when she saw Yang Tiexin's behavior.

"Okay, I'll remember that."

Ji Boying hadn't finished speaking.

Mu Nianci and Yang Tiexin only felt a blur before their eyes, and a clear figure flashed by. Ji Boying had already disappeared without a trace.

He quickly turned around to look for it.

But Ji Boying had already appeared several dozen steps away, landing in the crowd in front of the sedan chair.

"Daoist priest, wait a moment."

As Ji Boying spoke, he flicked his sword sheath forward.

Before Peng Lianhu could react, a sharp crack struck his wrist, interrupting Peng Lianhu handshake with Wang Chuyi.

Peng Lianhu felt a sharp pain in his wrist and jumped back twice.

His cautious expression masked his inner horrification, which goes without saying.

Wang Chuyi looked puzzled.

Having just captured Wanyan Kang, several of his followers rushed to his rescue.

Wang Chuyi exchanged a few blows with Reverend Lingzhi, Liang Ziwen, Peng Lianhu, and the others. Firstly, it was difficult for two fists to fight against four hands, as the martial arts skills of the people in front of him were not weak.

Secondly, he was unwilling to let go of Wanyan Kang, and he was not a vicious person. He refused to put Wanyan Kang in front of him to block others' attacks. Instead, he went to cover for Wanyan Kang, and he suffered a great loss because he only had one hand to fight the enemy.

The kind-hearted young man who had just stepped in to help Wang Chuyi also offered his assistance when he found himself in trouble. However, Peng Lianhu and his men were afraid of hurting Wanyan Kang and did not want to offend the Quanzhen Sect, so they did not take drastic measures to capture Wang Chuyi on the spot.

Why would they take this silly kid who suddenly appeared out of nowhere seriously?

Several people quickly knocked him to the ground. He was clutching his chest, looking suffocated, clearly quite injured.

Seeing their ruthless actions and his own disadvantageous position, Wang Chuyi naturally dared not release Wanyan Kang as a hostage.

The fight between the group grew increasingly intense, and the princess, sitting in her sedan chair, grew anxious, fearing that Yang Kang might be injured.

She tried to persuade them from inside, Peng Lianhu and the others were indeed afraid of hurting the Little Prince.

This prompted them to stop Liang Ziwen and his men from continuing their attack, and they expressed goodwill towards Wang Chuyi.

Peng Lianhu personally came up to greet the person. To show that there was no conspiracy, he generously extended his hand to shake hands with Wang Chuyi.

Without a weapon in hand, with both hands clasped together, it's naturally difficult to make a move.

Now that Wang Chuyi had a way out, he wanted to quickly end the matter and check on how badly the young man who had been knocked to the ground was injured.

Unexpectedly, this young man, who seemed to be Zhou Botong's disciple, suddenly appeared again and prevented them from shaking hands and making peace.

"Young man, what's going on?"

Ji Boying smiled gently and raised his chin.

"Look, Daoist priest."

Wang Chuyi followed Ji Boying's gaze.

On Peng Lianhu's hand was a ring made of twisted steel wire, with a steel needle attached to it.

Peng Lianhu was not trying to shake hands and make peace; he was clearly planning to use violence.

For the infamous Thousand-Hand Butcher Peng Lianhu, the ring he wore so carefully on his finger was certainly not an ordinary steel needle, and whether or not it was poisoned was a no-brainer.

"Fort Master Peng! Don't you feel ashamed to use such a trick in public?"

Wang Chuyi turned hostile and coldly rebuked him.

Peng Lianhu no longer feigned a warm smile like before; instead, he coldly mocked.

"Sigh, he calls himself a Daoist master, but he has a huge beard and he's still so naive."

A sarcastic remark made Wang Chuyi blush.

The little beggar, who had just been chased by the Three-Headed Flood Dragon and the Four Devils of the Yellow River, appeared before them without them noticing.

He bent down and gently helped the honest-looking boy up.