Slowly, a strange, inexplicable feeling flickered through Gong Yulin's heart—the heart that should have belonged to Zhang Xiyan. Was it admiration for Qing Bao? Or... love?
The Emperor Yan seemed to have sensed Ling Changfeng's thoughts as well. The light around them gradually dimmed, and his vision slowly became clear.
After so many years, he no longer knew how much Drought Fiend Blood he had drunk. He had long since grown sick of it; now, merely catching its scent made him feel nauseated enough to vomit.
"They just sent him in. We still don't know, but things definitely don't look good!" Liu Wei let out a long sigh. Whenever he thought of Han Zehui being covered in blood as he was rushed into the operating room, his heart felt terribly heavy.
Wo Feiya walked toward the treasured sword, reached out to grip the Sword Hilt, and pulled it from the soil. Not a speck of mud had stained its blade.
Tao Ming seemed to understand something. Looking at the countless flames floating through the air around him, he carefully sensed the Spiritual Power in the surrounding atmosphere. Only then did he realize that the Spiritual Power in the air was actually those floating objects shimmering with illusory colors?
People said all things were difficult at the beginning. To build up such a vast family fortune was truly no easy task. Jian Hao's parents pinched every penny, saved some money, took out bank loans, and finally started a business.
Without having possessed it, losing it would not hurt so much. Perhaps it had only been a breath of stubbornness—wanting what she could not have. Now that she let out that sigh, she felt released, light all over.
"Thank you, Clan Chief." Lan Xianlong calmly nodded to Yang Xiao and agreed in