Chapter 56: First Love Reunion Plants the Seeds of Disaster

Just a few short words, yet they sent a sudden, violent jolt through He Shinian's heart.

It is often said that every young man carries a lingering attachment to his first love—memories of a first girlfriend that are impossible to sever, etched deep into the soul.

Ten years had passed, and the memory of Duan Yunzhi in He Shinian's mind had indeed grown increasingly hazy.

Yet at the very moment of their reunion today, every fragmented memory in his mind rushed back like a rising tide.

Emotionally speaking, he still held a grudge against Duan Yunzhi deep down inside.

Even so, a voice within him insisted that he ought to go.

Zhao Tianxi, the son of Zhao Shiqing, lunged forward in a desperate attempt to fight Long Yi to the death, only to be grabbed by one hand by a somewhat delicate-looking young man and tossed into the back room.

I could tell Ah Wu wanted to take him alive, but that fellow gave Ah Wu no chance at all, springing up from the ground in an instant and drawing a pistol. That made even Ah Wu hesitate to advance—it was no joke; if the man detonated the explosives strapped to his body, Ah Wu would be dragged down with him.

Time flowed on as two pristine bodies intertwined, four eyes locked upon one another, filled with nothing save for intense affection and the sublimation of their love.

Then, looking in sheer astonishment at the Anan Pillar beside Alistair, they drew in a sharp breath of cold air! Even Mu Chen was dumbfounded, his mouth dropped open in the shape of an "O".

Wang Ben argued that the matter could not be viewed from that perspective; one had to start with the conditions put forward by Jin Wanda and analyze whether his terms were actually trustworthy.

Shen Hongxuan meticulously wiped the drool from his son's mouth, turning to Jinmian to say, "Both Shen Ruijun and Yangyang share the character 'Rui' in their names."

Nie Xinyao nodded, offering no objection. Although lingering doubts remained in her heart, she knew full well that this was hardly an opportune moment for conversation, leaving her no choice but to wait until evening to speak in detail with Qingchen.

Seeing Shen Hongxuan and his wife emerge and knowing they must have private matters to discuss—cough, and perhaps a few other things besides, as evidenced by his sister-in-law's lips—Zheng Shujie could only muse that the second young master of the Shen family was truly a closet romantic.

Zhou Yueheng pulled Xu Haoyan away, and Jinmian walked off with her bag. Only then did Zhou Yueheng release his grip, ignoring the icy glare in Xu Haoyan's eyes as he turned and walked away.

There was a threshold in her heart she could not cross, no matter how hard she tried. She had truly attempted it, countless times, yet she remained utterly helpless against herself. She knew how wonderfully Mo Huaiyuan treated her, and yet that profound kindness had somehow been twisted by her into this grotesque shape.

Though her face was covered, Zhang Erzhan's ears were free, and she caught a fair bit of the dialogue between Jinqiu and Yinchiu. She stretched her legs comfortably, though a sigh still escaped her heart. She was indeed worried about the capital, but compared to the panic she felt when the late emperor passed away, her heart felt strangely settled these days.

I found myself scarcely able to believe when I had transformed into a demon—feasting upon flesh and blood, utterly ruthless and devoid of warmth, completely stripped of reason.

He produced a pitch-black jar, slammed it down directly against my back, and then began to write and draw incantations across my spine using cinnabar.

The telephone rang. At this hour, without even needing to think, I knew it must be Xinyan calling. Ignoring the display, I simply glared with vicious intent at the man beneath me, demanding only that he tell me Chunfeng's whereabouts.

The Protection of Garuda had imperceptibly faded away, replaced by a golden radiance swirling around his entire body—a light that did not merely hover upon his surface, but emanated from the deepest depths of his soul.

Two meters wide, three meters high, and nearly a foot thick, the stone tablet was forged from an unknown material. Its surface was as smooth as iron, pitch-black and untainted by a single speck of dust or dirt, while simultaneously radiating an immensely vast, majestic, and primordial aura of oppression, standing before them like a towering mountain.

Zhou Jin looked into his eyes, momentarily lost in a trance. He had never witnessed such a gaze before: weary, remorseful, approving, or perhaps offering a sense of final release?

He never seemed to exert much effort; sometimes a mere subtle adjustment of his gaze or a change in tone was all it took to convey an entirely different atmosphere.

A waterfall hung across the front mountain, plunging straight down several thousand lengths like the Milky Way tumbling from the nine heavens, crashing directly into the massive pool at the foot of the mountain. From there, it rushed furiously along the mountain ravine beside the pool, plunging deep into the dense forest with a deafening roar, its momentum truly magnificent.