The woman spoke in a sweet, delicate voice, weeping like pear blossoms drenched in rain, sorrowful tears still on her face.
But to leave a better impression on this young lady, he took the initiative to speak.
Before the bronze mirror, she lightly dotted cinnabar between her brows, her crimson lips lustrous and moist.
"Thank you, young master."
The atmosphere had been rather intimate then, and the Empress Dowager had seemed ready to give herself to him.
"Young master, I lost my football. My mother gave it to me, but I can't find it no matter where I look."
To secure his position as Sect Master, it was time for those old fellows to die.
The disciple nodded respectfully and hurried away.
"..."
Without entering the tiger's den, how could one capture its cub?
To the Blood Rain Demon Venerable, these were all existences no different from ants.
The corners of his mouth curled slightly, tracing a strange smile across his face.
After all, his Guan Family had established this rule, and the Yanqi Sect's cultivation technique was tied to bloodline; only his Guan Family could cultivate it to full mastery.
Of course, according to the diary, the Female Emperor often met the Demon Venerable in secret. Perhaps tonight was the time to verify whether that diary was true or false.
"Then thank you, young master. As long as you help me find it, I'm willing to agree to anything you ask."
And so, after Fang Yang left the courtyard, he stood in the shadows, gazing at Ye Qinghong's stubborn, resolute profile.
Her eyes were like flowing streams, carrying a faint timidity and a hint of shyness.
In the depths of this night, many similarly bizarre things were happening, ghostly shadows swaying and blurred lanterns flickering in and out of