47 Farewell

Every family has its own troubles. This year, Cao Huachun, citing old age and frailty, submitted three petitions to Emperor Chongzhen requesting leave to return home. Although permission was not granted, anyone with a keen sense could easily perceive that the Cao clan’s power was on the brink of collapse.

Moreover, with only two days left until the official auction began, all invited participants had already assembled.

According to protocol, the entire ceremony would be orchestrated collaboratively by the Ministry of Rites’ subordinate offices: the Supervisory Office, the Astronomical Bureau, the Imperial Treasury, and the Music Bureau. However, since Beijing had fallen and Nanjing lay beyond Zhao Ying’s sphere of influence, all arrangements were simplified and entrusted entirely to Zhao Ying’s Chengxuan Governance Institute.

“What’s wrong?” A general charged over from Yan Dongjin’s side, reining in his warhorse abruptly and calling out loudly to him.

Upon seeing Zhela, Yinuo quickly tossed a lantern toward the triangular grass patch behind them. Ai Ruo, waiting there, immediately lit the lantern and swiftly appeared beside Chui Shi and in front of Zhela.

Unfortunately, neither of the two seated opposite him were tuned in, so they paid no attention to his voice.

Although he had resolved from the moment he first met Eve to cultivate an international superstar, when the day actually arrived, he still felt a surprising joy, as if struck by a sudden stroke of luck.

“Commander Xu, are all the formations properly arranged?” After sitting down, Zhao Dangshi asked loudly, his voice echoing around the tent.

Shen Nan, upon noticing the approaching figure, found him somewhat familiar; as he rummaged through his memory without recognition, the man handed him a torch, pulled him up, and gave him a push in a series of fluid movements.

Hua Huya dared not utter a word. As for his father’s reaction upon seeing Mo Sangqing, Hua Dage did not dare to imagine.

Originally, he had regarded it merely as the power of elemental wind—after all, elemental wind was a very common force.

Pei Xianjue believed she could manage, but emotions are difficult to control rationally. The more she cared, the more nervous she became. She had already done her utmost to calm herself and maintain composure, yet her palms were still slightly sweaty.

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The talkative general clutched his stomach, bruised by a comrade’s blow, convinced that what he witnessed was no illusion.

When medicine fails, there are still acupuncture and moxibustion; if those fail, there is the art of zhuyou. Ultimately, for traditional Chinese medicine, the methods were secondary—the true core lay in diagnostic reasoning.

The sect leader Ling Bimian had vanished without trace, and his disciples had all but perished. Counting even Tao Zui, the only one capable of holding his own was Zhong Zimo, who had just broken through to the early Nascent Soul stage.

Su Yu playfully scooped up two dollops of cream with her fingers, smearing one on Su Chuanjun’s face and the other on Wei Xining’s, then laughed wildly until Wei Xining reminded her it was late and they might disturb the neighbors.

This scope was still somewhat vast for me; I had no absolute confidence in writing it well, so I could only do my best.

He believed that a prosperous and peaceful nation depended fundamentally on governance and establishing the country’s foundation. Only when the people diligently farmed could the state have funds to use. The Ming dynasty sought inexhaustible wealth, constant national abundance, and enduring blessings from gods and spirits, all relying on agriculture.

After speaking, Wang Tuanzhi suddenly surged forward at Jiang Fan. The Blood Cloud Tower assassin launched an assault, leaping fiercely toward him.

Mu Qingge breathed a sigh of relief. At least the replacement of Emperor Yue was not as she had feared—it was merely bathing.

Thus, the entire Censorate looked upon this “Censor Pei” with nothing but sympathy.

“I heard that our family has two more brothers now?” Wen Nuan’s cheeks flushed faintly as she was about to speak, but Zhou Buhan and Fu Yunyi returned just then, so she took the opportunity to introduce them. While they exchanged pleasantries, she found an excuse to leave, fearing that staying might invite teasing.

“Prince Rui, our princess met with trouble in the Great Chu Kingdom. Your country must give us an explanation,” Lin Feng’an declared righteously in front of Qingmei.

The implication was clear: since you eat, drink, sleep, and live, outsiders have no relation to your son, yet you won’t even allow him to eat?

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“Father, you mean that you and Mother want to come with us to the capital?” After putting his sons to bed, Gu Qingyun noticed the light still on in his parents’ room when he went out to use the restroom, realizing they were waiting for him.

This mood became even more apparent when he saw his swollen lips in the mirror as he washed up.

“Come with me and see,” Anmi’er told Steward Cao, then stepped out toward the door.

Wen Nuan buried her burning face into his embrace. Her body was no better off; he took every possible advantage without restraint—from top to bottom, inside and out, teased completely—and even now, her heart pounded wildly.

In short, An Ze had decided to delete that section entirely and not copy it. As for how Zhu Qiyu would act or choose, he did not care.

A heavy thud echoed from the team member, as if he had collided with a steel plate, rebounding fiercely and falling heavily to the ground.

“Who dares to leave? Everyone sit down, or don’t blame me for being ruthless!” Hou San shouted, his aura suddenly surging. No one expected Hou San to be a peak-level warrior among the imperial guards, and those about to leave dared not move.

Quick as lightning, Yang She unleashed a volley of arrows—one, two—and with each twang, a monster fell dead to the ground.